Hidden Beneath
by Adah
Summary: Harry left the wizarding world ten years ago, to escape what happened. Now he's in England, and a collision between his old world and his new one is near.
1. Articles and Eclairs

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall draws near, Ron and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.

Chapter 1: Articles and Éclairs

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The man sighed as he pushed back his thick brown hair. He was sitting at a desk in a classroom, correcting papers. It was a clear spring afternoon in late May.

The man pushed back his hair again, reveal a thin, lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. It was immediately covered up again when his stubborn locks flopped back into their previous messy position.

He looked up as another guy walked into the classroom. He had brown hair and bright blue eyes. He seemed to have a bounce in his step where ever he walked; always happy.

"Well, look who it is! The very person I haven't seen in a millennia!" He looked around. "Nice room you got here, James."

"Thanks, Peter," said the man amusedly. "You know, as I recall, you've been in here quite a few times. So what is it that you want?"

"Well, what are you doing here grading fifth graders' papers on a beautiful day like this when you should be helping me at the store? Plus, it's a Sunday."

James smiled. "The store" was Peter's bakery, which James helped Peter bake for if there was a big event coming up.

"I'm just trying to finish correcting these papers," he answered. "I didn't want to bring them home. There's only one more week of school left, you know. "

"And only one more week until that wedding for which I have to bake one hundred éclairs. C'mon, James, I could really use your help today."

"You say that everyday."

Peter gave James a pleading look.

"Fine. I'm almost done correcting these anyway."

Peter punched James on the arm playfully. "Thanks, you're a real pal, a real pal," he said with emphasis.

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

----------------

"Look, Ron," said Hermione angrily, "I really don't see why we have to travel halfway across the world to see one man." It was breakfast time, and Hermione had just come downstairs with her bags.

"I've explained this before, honey," said Ron, exasperated, "We're meeting this guy's family, not just him. I have to go, at least. How would it look if her own brother didn't even meet her fiancé, never mind her future family-in-law? Besides, we're the only one's who haven't met the 'famous' Daniel that Ginny always talks about. Mum seems to like him well enough, anyway."

"Yes, but leaving the kids with Percy and Penelope for a week?"

"We're dropping the kids off at the Burrow first. Believe me; Mum will make sure they are all right. Plus, it will be a good experience for them. Look, we can talk this over with Percy at lunch. Besides, have you ever been to Canada before?"

"Well, no-"

"See? We'll be going someplace new! It'll be an adventure!"

Hermione sighed. "I suppose."

Ron kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

"I'll just get the kids ready, and then we can go." Hermione went upstairs.

Ron turned back to the paper. An article caught his attention.

BOY WHO LIVED, DEAD, OR ALIVE?

It has been almost ten years since the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and ten years since Harry Potter was last seen. His disappearance has caused much controversy in the wizarding community. Was he killed in the war? Or is he still out there, hiding from the world? Many choose to believe the latter, although no trace of him can be found. But why would the most powerful wizard hide? What caused his disappearance? And where is he hiding, if he is indeed hiding? Most people believe he is still in the wizarding world, but there is a surprising few who believe he has gone into the muggle world. This year's tenth Anniversary of Peace raises more questions about what happened on that night, and reminds us of the hero and biggest mystery of the wizarding community, Harry Potter.

Hermione came downstairs, with Emily and Jack in tow, arguing with each other.

Jack was a spitting image of his mother: light brown hair with dark brown eyes. And he read a surprising amount of books for his ten-year-old self. Emily had red hair, and Ron's eyes. She also had his short temper and picked fights with her older brother.

"Now you guys are sure you packed everything you need?" Hermione asked worriedly, interrupting the argument.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum, you've asked us a million times already."

"Now, I'll apparate over with the luggage, and Ron, dear, will you take the kids? Don't forget to call out 'The Burrow' nice and loud."

"Yes, Mum," said Jack, Emily, and Ron in unison.

"Dear, don't encourage them..."

"We'll be fine," Ron reassured his wife, "We're only using Floo Powder. We'll see you in a few minutes."

Hermione gave them a weak smile and apparated away.

"Right," said Ron, "Let's go."

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The bakery looked as if a tornado had swept in, and then there was an earthquake. There was flour everywhere, not to mention water from an over-flowing sink of cooking utensils.

"My god," said Peter to James, "I'm gone for a minute, and they tear the place apart! Good thing we aren't open on Sundays."

"What?" shouted a woman behind a huge whirring mixer.

"Uh, I said, keep up the good work!" shouted Peter.

"Thanks!" the woman shouted back.

Peter chuckled. "Sarah's so sweet. She was the first one over here to help me today."

"Okay, okay, I get it," laughed James. "I'm the last one here, I know. I haven't been here in a week, I know. I haven't--"

"Eeeee! It's Jamesie!" shrieked Emma, high enough to break several windows.

James rolled his eyes. Emma insisted on calling him "Jamesie." It made Jacob angry though, because she called him "My Cobbie," and that was a lot worse than "Jamesie." Emma and Jacob were engaged. The wedding was in two months and they had started helping Peter with his store a lot lately. _They're trying to get a discount on their cake_, thought James wryly. _Just like them to do that_.

Jacob was thin, tall, and had flaming red hair. Luckily, his red hair did not reflect his temper. He was known for being a temperate and trustworthy person. He was very clumsy, but extremely bright. He collected knowledge faster than anyone James knew. Well, almost anyone. James always got a wave of nostalgia and regret whenever he looked at or talked to Jacob. The combination of red hair and a smart mind brought back uncomfortable memories.

Emma was from Oregon. She had blonde short hair, and large brown eyes, and was fairly big chested, and consequently often got asked if she was a movie star. Now _that_ made her cringe. She seemed to hate being considered "good-looking"; she called it a hindrance to having the proper amount of fun. While visiting her parents (who had moved to San Francisco), she met Jacob and they fell in love and moved to Calgary, where Jacob's parents lived. Nothing had really gone wrong in the entire time they had known each other. Their lives were a fairy tale. _Some people have all the luck_, thought James.

"Jamesie? Hellooo," Emma waved her hand in front of James' face. "Anyone home?"

James shook himself. "Oh, yeah. What?"

"My Cobbie was _saying_ something."

"James--," scolded Sarah, "James--," she tried again. "Say, what _is_ your middle name?" she asked.

"James is my middle name. Harry is my first," James answered.

The group exchanged surprised glances.

"Well," continued Sarah, "Harry James Potterson, what have you been doing all week that demanded your attention _so_ badly that you couldn't visit your friends even _once_? Not only that, but then you zone out while we're talking to you?"

"Sorry guys, I guess I just got busy."

"Yeah, well you were certainly in a bad mood the whole week."

James raised an eyebrow.

"We heard what you did to poor Jacob. Snapping at him like that, tsk, tsk, _tsk_. And we just told him to talk to you, since he's the only one who works at the same place you do."

"I'm in a better mood, now, promise," tried James.

"You know Jamesie," said Emma, "You get in this mood every year. And around the same time. What is it? And it always seems to be My Cobbie that you pick on. What's going on?"

There was silence. James could hear the whirring of a mixer in the back room, the soft flow of water in the sink, and even the humming of the oven. The silence was heavy around him, as if daring him to break it. James licked his lips and tried desperately to think of a new topic of conversation. Peter shifted his feet, uncomfortable, but curious at the same time. Emma's gaze was penetrating. The silence became unbearable. Finally James stupidly blurted out:

"So, what are we making today?"

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	2. Traveling and Lies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall draws near, Ron and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.

Chapter 2: Traveling and Lies

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Ron burst through the Burrow's fireplace, followed by Jack and Emily. Still coughing from inhaling a bit of ash, Ron was promptly smothered by his mother's embrace.

"Let me look at my son," Molly Weasley held Ron's head up in the light, making Ron feel as if his were five again. "Just the same as always. My goodness, I haven't seen you in a while. You live so far away!"

"We live about 100 kilometers away. Only about an hour by broomstick, Mum. Besides, you can use Floo powder and get there in a matter of minutes."

"I know dear, but you see, it's the principle of the thing. I need to be able to walk to your house, and have my grandchildren visit me everyday. Ooh, and let's have a look at the darlings!"

Jack was bickering with Emily, who was playing in the ash in the fireplace. Molly kneeled on the floor and embraced Jack and the very dirty Emily, which swiftly ended their argument.

"Now, let me see," said Molly, sitting back to get a good look at the kids. "You my dear, must be five?"

"Six and a half," Emily corrected.

"Oh, yes. And Jack, you must be twelve?"

"Ten," Jack corrected.

Molly continued to ask the kids questions while Ron and Hermione talked with Percy and Penelope.

"So how is Mum?" asked Ron.

"Ah, you know, same as always," answered Percy. "Her same overly cheerful and forgetful self. You know, she just isn't the same as she used to be, since Dad died."

Percy and Penelope lived in the Burrow with Ms. Weasley. They had three kids, who were all currently at Hogwarts. One in first year, one in third, and another in sixth.

Hermione began helping Penelope prepare lunch, and Ron sat down to talk with Percy. About a half hour later, Penelope called that it was lunch just as Hermione finished setting the table outside. Jack and Emily came running out with chocolate all over their faces.

"Oh dear," muttered Hermione to Ron, "It looks like your mother gave them chocolate frogs." She walked up to Jack and Emily. "James Arthur Weasley!" Hermione scolded Jack, "Did you and your sister eat _all_ the chocolate frogs Grandma gave you?"

"No," muttered Jack guiltily, "We saved a lot! Well, uh, it was actually more like several. But when I say 'several,' some people might have called it 'a few'. But both of those words are alike, so they really mean the same thing."

"Just how many did you two leave?"

Jack looked at his sister.

"About a couple," said Emily.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, okay," said Emily, "We each saved one."

Hermione sighed. "One out of six. You guys know we're having lunch now, right?"

She looked back at the table. Percy, Ron, Penelope, and Ms. Weasley were already eating.

"Don't worry, Mummy," piped up Emily, "Me and Jack are still really hungry. Right Jack?"

"Oh, yeah, famished," said Jack enthusiastically.

Hermione looked at her kids. They were trying to make her happy, she could tell. "Okay, well, let's eat lunch, then. Just don't eat so many next time."

"Yes, Mum," said Jack and Emily in unison.

They walked back to the table and began to eat.

"So, how are my favorite niece and nephew?" asked Percy.

"Good," they both answered.

"You guys ate most of the chocolate frogs again, didn't you?"

Jack and Emily giggled. Hermione was sitting at the other end of the table and didn't notice their topic of conversation.

"Well, yeah," answered Jack.

"Did you get any good cards?" asked Percy.

"I got a Dumbledore!" said Emily excitedly. "I don't have that one, and neither does Jack!" She counted on her fingers. "And then I got a Merlin, a Bortok the Bazaar, a Glinda the Peaceful, and two Harry Potters."

"Exciting. And you Jack--"

"Oh my goodness!" said Hermione, "It's almost one o'clock! We have to go if we want to catch the one-fifteen portkey to Canada!"

With lightning speed Hermione grabbed their bags, and Ron said a thank you to Percy for lunch and taking care of the kids.

"Bye Mum!" called Emily, "Have fun in Canada!"

Her goodbye was followed by others, and then, Ron and Hermione apparated away.

On their way to Canada.

----------------

"Okay, James, or should I say _Harry_, what is it? Why the bad mood? Spill." said Sarah, still bitter that she didn't know that James had a different first name.

"Well, you see--" began James, "Um, it is sort of complicated." He was contemplating how to tell his friends that he used to live in a whole other different world, fighting a war.

"Nah, you guys don't want to hear it," interjected Peter. James could see the confused and slightly annoyed look on everyone else's face.

"We don't?" asked Emma.

"No, it's really not that interesting."

_Huh_? thought James.

"Yeah, James here told me it once," said Peter.

_I never did that! What is he talking about?_ thought James frantically.

"It's just that he got in a fight with his brother a while ago and they both left home," continued Peter, as James breathed a sigh of relief. "His brother went to France and James came here to Calgary. It was some fight over his grandfather's will. James' brother wanted more of the inheritance, since he was older, and made a pretty big deal over it because everything was split evenly to James, his mother, his father, and his brother. Yeah, it's really not that interesting. And last week was the anniversary of their fight, so it just brings back bad memories. They haven't talked since."

"Oh," said Sarah, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "That's so sad. I'm truly sorry for getting mad at you, James. Really."

"Yeah, me too," apologized Emma. James could tell they were clearly sorry.

"Aw, it's all right. I'm sorry for taking it out on you guys," said James.

"So what was your brother's--"

"Time to make those éclairs!" shouted Peter, interrupting the ever curious Emma.

James was quickly forgotten and the group scrambled to get a mixer that didn't splatter dough everywhere. James pulled Peter aside.

"Thanks a bunch for saving my neck," said James, "I don't know how you did it."

"I figured it had something to do with when I and my brother found you, and I could tell you didn't want to relive it," said Peter.

"But do you know what happened?"

"Actually, no, but I figure you'll tell us when you want to. Hey, but that brother story was pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah. Really, thanks a lot."

"It was nothing."

----(flashback)----

Harry chugged another glass of vodka, and smiled as he triumphantly turned the glass over, and slapped it on the table. The man on the other side was turning very red and was having some trouble grabbing his glass.

"Give up?" asked Harry. He appeared pretty much sober, and in control. Inside, he could feel himself spinning, but he also felt that wonderful feeling of no pain, no memories.

"Never," answered the man gruffly, but determinedly.

Harry had to give him credit. He never had someone last for so long against him in a drinking contest. He could tell, though, that with just a few more glasses, the man would be out cold. _But I might be out cold too_, thought Harry. Although he didn't look it on the outside, Harry was starting to feel pretty sick himself. _Just a few more glasses_, Harry told himself.

The man shakily poured himself another glass, looked at it with a look that one could almost call frightened, took a deep breath, and swallowed. His eyes were closed for a few seconds, and Harry could almost feel the men behind him smile with the confidence that they bet on the right guy.

The man opened his eyes and burped. A few cheers erupted from his side of the table, while the men on Harry's side glared.

Harry confidently poured himself another glass, and drank it right away. He could feel the alcohol running through his system. Slowly he turned his glass over, and thumped it on the table. He smiled as the men who bet on him cheered.

The money was high tonight. Nobody had ever watched this long of a drinking contest, and more money was being set on the table every minute. Something in the back of Harry's head nagged him, though. _What will you do with the money_? it asked. Harry knew. He knew he would just wander to a different city and buy more drinks. He would drink away the pain, and regret.

The man on the other side of the table smiled a silly smile. He was incredibly fat, and incredibly red from the alcohol. He patted his stomach, then chugged another glass.

Suddenly, Harry felt disgusted. He couldn't say why. Maybe it was the man across from him, drooling and smiling in that very pleased-with-himself way, or maybe it was the broken chairs stacked in the corner. Maybe it was the pick-pocket who was taking the opportunity to steal someone's wallet, or maybe it was the middle-aged man with a golden ring on his left ring-finger, kissing a heavily make-upped girl of about twenty in the corner, with no ring. Whatever it was, Harry couldn't deal at it any longer. Sure, he had won lots of drinking contests, in fact he hadn't lost yet, and he had been in worse places than these. But something about it made him want to throw up.

_Maybe it's me_, thought Harry. _Maybe I am what is so disgusting. Maybe it's not the drooling man across from me, or the men betting hundreds of dollars on this contest, or the married man with the prostitute. Maybe it's me. I am the walking disgrace_. And Harry knew he had to get out of that pub. He had to leave. He had to make something of himself. He had to make a difference in the world. Get out and be somebody. He didn't want to die a drunk. He didn't want his parents to have died for a disgrace.

And with these thoughts, Harry stood up, and made to leave.

"Where are you going?" drawled the new contest winner. "Scared of me, are you?"

Harry kept walking.

A man grabbed his arm. "Yeah, where do you think you are going? I've got money on you."

"Away," answered Harry.

The man grinned and pulled out a knife. "Oh no you're not."

Harry's drunk self had the thought process of a stubborn child. He was defiant and enraged that someone should tell him what to do. How dare this man tell him where or where not to go? Didn't he know who he was dealing with? The most powerful-- _Crap_! thought Harry, _I should not have thought that_. He started to feel the power swell inside him the moment he recalled who he had been. He tried desperately to remember whether he took his pills that morning or not, but his drunken mind wouldn't allow it. The power grew, and Harry couldn't contain it any longer. It burst out of him: the power that had lay silently inside him, plugged up by a few simple pills, waiting for the day when Harry would make a mistake and forget to take those pills. The power flowed through his heart, through his arms, it squeezed the breath out of him, and continued traveling through his hands, his fingers, and shot out at the man with the knife.

The man fell down in a stupor, with blue hair, a new set of plaid clothing, and green and pink beetles scuttling around him. "Repressed magic can do strange things," said the man when Harry had bought the pills.

Harry fell on his knees, gasping for breath. The power was too much for him to control. The rest of the men looked at Harry, their eyes full of fear. They didn't even notice when the contest winner fell down in a dead faint.

"He's armed!" shouted one man stupidly.

"With what, you moron?" shouted another in answer.

The men began arguing with each other as Harry was on the ground, trying to get a hold of himself.

Then, through all the noise, one man softly said, "He's not human."

The din quieted, and Harry sensed trouble.

"What did you say?" asked one man.

"The guy ain't human. He's a danger to us all."

The other men shouted in agreement. Together they grabbed knives, forks, bottles, and pieces of wood, and advanced on Harry.

Authors note: The flashback will finish up in the next chapter, promise!

What will happen soon: Ron and Hermione meet Ginny's fiancé, we find out how James knows Peter, and we will find out soon what in the world are "the pills."

And a gigantic thank you to:

Chochang913

Nicky

RicaSieg (aka Blossom)

Thanks a bunch for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	3. Resolutions and Friends

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall draws near, Ron and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.

Author's note: This chapter might be a little graphic, I think, depending on what you think is graphic. Anyway, Harry gets hurt, 0( but he ends up happy. 0)

Chapter 3: Resolutions and New Friends

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Harry shakily stood up. "Now guys..." he tried to reason with them. He backed up as the men kept advancing on him. Some of them had evil, drunk smiles on their faces, some of the more sober ones just looked determined.

Harry tripped over a fallen chair as he was backing up to the door. The men kept walking. Harry could feel more power beginning to rise inside of him. Harry looked at his choices. He could have his power save him from the mob by turning them all into beetles, but then have the Ministry of Magic show up to give memory charms etc. to the beetle-men and clean up the mess, then start looking for the person who cast that spell (which would mean that the ministry would start chasing after him), or he could take the pills and get killed by the mob.

Some wizards from the ministry were probably already on their way to make sure that no muggles got hurt from Harry's accidental spell towards the guy who had the knife. So Harry chose to take the pills and run, preferring to be killed than to face the past.

Still sliding towards the door, Harry searched his pocket for his pill jar. Once he found it, he grabbed someone's old beer, still half-full, turned around, stood up, chugged down several pills, threw down the beer bottle, and ran out the door.

The group of men ran after Harry, shouting at him. Harry felt the pills take effect inside him, pushing the power back to its source, wherever it was inside him. Harry kept running blindly, having no idea where he was going. He was too drunk to recognize which street he had come down to get to the pub, and for that matter, too drunk to recognize the sky from the ground. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that if he stopped he would be killed immediately, while if he kept running, he would be killed later.

Harry ran across a street, causing several cars to honk at him and swerve. Harry tripped and fell, but looking behind him, crawled forward, stood up, and kept running. He ran towards the snowy woods on the other side. The mob was close behind and starting to throw things. A piece of wood hit Harry's back, but he kept running. The mob started throwing heavier objects. A brick hit Harry's arm, and made him fall.

Crying out and cradling his bloody arm, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the men come upon him. He heard shouts of triumph as the group found where he fell, and started beating him.

Harry wanted the pain to stop. He wanted the men to stop. He body grew numb with pain. Harry couldn't understand why the men kept hitting him, kicking him, hurting him. Why did they do it? Did they really want to kill him? Couldn't they see that he was clearly in pain? Or was it just that they were blood crazed, that as soon as there was a fight, all reason whatsoever left them?

Dimly, Harry heard sirens, and could see flashing lights through his closed eyes. The group of men scattered. Harry did not want to be found by the police, either.

He slowly rolled over on to his stomach, and crawled behind a log. There was snow everywhere, and Harry knew it would get well into the negative degrees at night. He was only wearing pants and a long-sleeve shirt, which were very ripped. He remembered that he had left his coat and scarf in the pub. At least his shoes were in tact. And it was incredibly lucky that his pills were in his pants pocket. _Mr. Westin put a charm on that pill jar so it would always be with me, just like how it never becomes empty_, Harry thought to himself.

The police were apparently satisfied with breaking up the loud group and left the scene. Slowly it dawned on Harry that he would become frozen to death if he kept lying on the ground. He forced himself to get up, to stand up. It took a while; his body was so sore, and was bleeding so much that his did not doubt that he could very well die from loss of blood, too.

He kept thinking, though, about his resolution in the bar. He would make a difference, if only in a small way. He did not expect to find the cure for the common cold, or for AIDS, or for cancer, or to find intelligent life outside Earth, nor did he expect to solve world hunger. He just wanted to do something small. Save animals. Give clothes and food to the homeless. Clean up neighborhoods. Be a good person.

With these thoughts in his head, he started walking. He walked for hours. He fell some times, but always got back up.

He was walking through the woods, his feet carrying him to some mysterious destination. The moon was full. It was huge, and white, and clear as a picture. He could see so many stars. And there were no clouds to obstruct his view. The sky was not black, but a deep navy blue, or was it a deep purple? He could see the tops of trees, their silhouettes dark against the sky. The moon cast an eerie light around the forest, making everything look silvery-gray. And he kept on walking.

He walked until he thought he was dreaming, and he was still a boy, and it was Christmas morning. He was running down the stairs, amazed that he had presents under the house tree. His two best friends were smiling, and laughing with him. He was safe, and there was no real danger. Indeed, the biggest danger then was potions class.

A while later, Harry opened his eyes and saw a light in the distance. He altered his course a little and headed for the light, having nowhere else to go, and wanting a goal to take his mind off the pain and the cold.

As he came walked closer to the light, he could tell that he wasn't going to make it. He was feeling extremely faint and was shivering violently. _Just a bit more_, he told himself, _Almost there_. He thought more about what he would do to make a difference in the world. _My parents have not died in vain_, he thought fiercely, _I am Lily and James Potter's son, and I will make a difference, I will help, I will make something of my life_.

Harry forgot why getting to this light was so important, but for some reason he knew he had to get there; it was his goal. "I am Lily and James Potter's son, and I will make a difference," he said out loud. He kept repeating this over and over, intent on getting to the light.

Finally, he saw that it was the light to a house. There was an electric lantern outside the back door of a house. Harry smiled feebly. He made it.

He went up to the door, knocked, and fainted.

When Harry awoke, he noticed that he was lying in a bed, in a hospital gown. A nurse came over to him when she noticed he was awake.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked.

"Yes," said Harry, "Where am I?"

"The hospital. You had some very bad cuts on you and were almost frozen to death."

Harry looked at his arms. He had a few stitches on his left arm, and his right arm was in a cast. It mast have been the brick that broke the bone.

"You fainted in front of the Harding's house, and luckily someone heard you and brought to here," the nurse added. "Just in time, too, you had a lot of blood loss."

Harry stayed at the hospital for another day, and then was free to go, as long as he came back in a week to get the stitches taken out. He had nowhere to stay, but the Hardings kindly offered to let Harry stay with them for as long as he needed.

Mr. and Mrs. Harding must have been the kindest people in Canada. They had three children, all adults, two boys and a girl. Ryan was the oldest, then Peter, then Olivia. It was Ryan and Peter who found Harry. Mr. and Mrs. Harding made breakfast as soon as Harry came to their house.

"So," asked Ryan as soon as they started serving themselves and eating, "Did you say your name was James Potterson?"

Harry gulped a piece of food he was chewing and tried to figure out how Ryan got that idea.

"Your name," tried Ryan again, "You were mumbling when we found you, something about being James Potterson and making a difference."

"Uh, yeah," answered Harry, "Yeah, that's my name." _Well, now I can get rid of my distinctive name_, thought Harry, now James.

"More eggs, dear?" asked Mrs. Harding.

"Sure, okay," answered Harry. "Thank you very much."

"Are you British?" asked Olivia.

"How did you know?" said Harry stupidly.

Olivia giggled a bit. "Your accent. It sounds British."

"Oh, yes, of course." The new James mentally slapped himself on the head. "Yes, yes I am British." He blushed to think he was being so dumb.

They ate in silence for a while, until another question was brought up.

"So when did you leave England?" said Mr. Harding.

"About six months ago, I think. In late May. What city is this?"

"Calgary. December 16."

"James, dear, are you done?" asked Mrs. Harding.

"Yes, thank you."

"Here, let us take you to your room," said Mr. Harding. "You will be sharing with Peter. Will that be alright?"

"Oh, yes, thank you."

Mr. Harding, Peter, and James went upstairs.

"I would have carried your bags up here, but you don't seem to have anything that isn't ripped except for that pill bottle you were holding onto in the hospital," said Mr. Harding.

"Oh, where is it?" asked James, panic rising in his voice.

"Don't worry," laughed Mr. Harding, "It's downstairs in the kitchen."

James breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, I'll leave you guys alone for a bit," said Mr. Harding, "Peter, help James get situated, and then come downstairs to help me bring in the Christmas tree."

"Sure thing," answered Peter

Mr. Harding went downstairs and James and Peter were left in an uncomfortable silence.

"So, do you have a job around here?" asked Peter, after a while.

"Well, no, not really," said James.

"Hm, let me see. You could always help me out at my bakery. Or my brother Ryan can see if there's a job open at the dentist's office he works at. Although, you need a bit of medical training to work there. Oh, and my friend Jacob works at the elementary school, and they desperately need a teacher."

"Really?" _There_, thought James, _A teacher. That's where I could make a difference. I'll make a difference in those kids' lives, if only small_.

"Yeah," continued Peter, glad to hear some interest coming from James, "You don't need to have any previous teacher experience. They'll take you to some workshops over the break, which started yesterday, and you can begin in January. The pay's not great, but enough to live off of."

"Sounds great!"

Over the next months, James became good friends with the Hardings. He applied to be a teacher and was accepted. He started teaching a fifth grade class, whose teacher in the fall had quit. He took out a loan and rented a small apartment, paying with his teaching money. He had finally made a life for himself, and was very happy.

----(end flashback)----

Peter was obviously also remembering when he met James, because he was also quiet for a few minutes, deep in thought.

"Well," said Peter, suddenly, "Are we just going to stand here all day, or are we going to make some éclairs?"

"Let's do it."

"Yeah, and with the amount of time we've let those clowns work on the éclairs," Peter joked, "They've probably made a grand total of three."

James looked behind him to where Sarah, Emma, and Jacob were having a flour fight.

"C'mon, let's show them how it's done," said Peter.

Peter and James each grabbed a handful of flour from the nearby barrels, and joined in.

Authors note: Sorry I got no Ron and Hermione in this chapter. Promise in the next one! Really!

And thank you thank you thank you:

RicaSieg(aka Blossom)

Bayleigh Ford

twirlgirl04

ME!;p

Chochang913

Nicky

Dreamweaver

Thanks a bunch for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	4. Relatives and Coincidences

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall draws near, Ron and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.

**To my readers: **If you like my story and would like to write a fan fic of a fan fic (or something like that), please give me the credit I deserve. If you want to use a character named Peter who owns a bakery and he has to make éclairs for a wedding, or use the situation that Harry Potter disappeared ten years ago and now lives in Canada and goes by the name "James," or that Ron and Hermione are going to Canada to visit Ginny's fiancé, or that Harry was found by Peter and his brother in their back yard, or use any of my specific plot, character, situation, and story ideas, please, _please_, put a disclaimer. I've worked very hard on my story, and it's rather shocking to read an e-mail that asks if I take my ideas from someone else. So please, put a disclaimer. Thank you.

Chapter 4: Relatives and Coincidences

----------------

Ron and Hermione landed with a --pop-- on the Bollis' door step in Calgary.

"Well, here it goes," said Ron, and he knocked on the door.

There were noises and thumps coming from the inside of the house, and finally a very excited Ginny answered the door.

"Ron!" she squealed, and gave him a hug. She then gave Hermione a hug, too. "I'm so glad you guys are here! Let me get your bags."

Ginny grabbed Ron and Hermione's suitcases and ran into the house. Ron and Hermione were left in silence. Ginny came back down.

"You guys have to meet Daniel and his parents. Here, come on. They're in the kitchen."

Ginny led her brother and sister-in-law into the kitchen. There was smoke everywhere, and at least ten pots were bubbling wildly on a large stove.

"Ron, Hermione, this is Daniel, Mr. Bollis, and Mrs. Bollis. Everyone, this is Ron and Hermione."

Daniel had soft blond hair and blue eyes. He was thin, but surprisingly energetic. He was bouncing around everywhere, trying to shake Ron and Hermione's hands and cook at the same time. Mr. Bollis was tall and had thin white hair. Mrs. Bollis had light brown hair and was very short. The couple gave Hermione and Ron a nod and went back to cooking.

"I hope you two travelers won't mind if we have some of the family over," said Mr. Bollis while stirring something on the stove.

"Oh, no, that'll be fine," answered Ron.

"Good. It's only Daniel's brother John, and his wife and kids."

"That'll be great!" said Hermione, a little over enthusiastically. But that didn't phase Ginny.

"Ooh, I'm so happy you're all getting along!" she said. "I knew you guys would like each other!"

----------------

A few hours later, and a few barrels of flour later, the crew at the bakery lay exhausted after their flour fight. Everyone was sitting or lying on extra bags of sugar in the back room. Sarah, Jacob, and Emma were absolutely covered in flour.

"We so creamed you guys," said Peter, "Me and James were just too big of a match for you."

"Not uh," said Emma, "We might be more floured, but we're better that you guys, way better."

"Just 'better'?" asked James amusedly, "Not much of a come-back, Emma."

"Oh, shush up, Jamesie." Emma half-heartedly threw a handful of flour at James, but ended hitting Jacob instead. "Oh, sorry Cobbie. Didn't mean to."

A timer went off somewhere and Sarah jumped up. "Our first éclairs are done!" she said, and bounded to the oven. She pulled out the pan, and grimaced.

"I don't think we did it right, Peter," she said.

On the tray were three of the most pathetic éclairs James had ever seen. One was gigantic and leaking cream filling, one was tiny with gobs of chocolate sauce poured over it, and the last one had several bites taken out of it.

"Well, they tasted good," said Emma sheepishly, eyeing the bitten éclair.

"Three?" said Peter in disbelief, "Three? That's _all_ you made? _Three_?"

"They were hard to make," said Sarah, trying to defend herself.

Peter sighed. "Well, we better start cracking."

Several hours later, the group managed to make thirty perfect éclairs. In the process, they managed to create ten monster éclairs, get chocolate sauce everywhere, and eat more than the healthy amount of pasty, cream, and chocolate. They also had dinner at the Mexican restaurant down the street. Peter pulled that last éclairs out of the oven.

"Ah, these are the best éclairs 'Peter's Bakery' has ever seen," he said.

Sarah beamed.

Emma put the finishing touches of chocolate on Jacob's face.

Jacob sighed and rolled his eyes.

James snorted and laughed to himself. _What an original name_, he thought. He got a kick out of the name Peter chose for his bakery he started. "Peter's Bakery." He still got teased about it. Apparently, he had always been a good cook. And he loved baking. So after high school he went to a culinary college and got a degree. He came back home to Calgary and started a bakery. He was as happy as ever running it, too.

"I'll bring some of these over to the bride and groom to see if they like them. We'll see how the rest sell in the store," said Peter.

"What?" asked Jacob, "You mean these aren't the final ones?"

Peter laughed. "No, they would go old by the time the wedding comes, in a week. Besides, we have to see if this is absolutely what the bride and groom want."

Sarah, Jacob, Emma, and James groaned. They did not want to go through this again.

"Well, it's getting late," said Peter, looking at his watch. "Hey, why don't we all just sleep in my place tonight?" Peter's apartment was above his bakery.

"That sounds like a good idea," said Emma. Jacob nodded in agreement. He and Emma lived together.

"Well, I will too, then," said Sarah.

Everyone looked at James. "Oh, alright," he said, giving in. "Luis will miss me, though." Luis was James's cat. He was a small grey cat with large yellow eyes. James got Luis about a year ago.

"Good," said Peter, "Now about--"

"I get the shower!" shouted Emma.

"I get the sink, kitchen or bathroom," said a very chocolaty Jacob.

"Then I'll make a pit stop down here," said James.

"Well then," sighed Peter, "I guess that takes care of that. Sarah and I will put the éclairs away, and meet everyone up stairs."

----------------

Just as Hermione helped finish setting the table, the front door burst open.

"We're here!" shrieked a high feminine voice.

Into the house tromped a woman, a man, three girls and four boys, all laughing and talking. Mr. and Mrs. Bollis went up to give their son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids hugs, while John, Daniel's brother, talked loudly with Daniel and Ginny.

"So, when are you two love birds getting married?" asked John.

"In two months," said Daniel.

"Good, good. And how have you been Ginny?"

"Fine," she answered.

Everybody slowly quieted down as they noticed Ron and Hermione standing off to the side.

"This is my brother Ron," spoke up Ginny, "And my sister-in-law Hermione." The kids giggled.

"Ginny spoke of you two often. It's wonderful to finally meet you," said John.

"Well, let's all go into the living room while dinner finished cooking," offered Mrs. Bollis.

The group tromped into the living room and sat down in various place. John and his wife seemed able to start a conversation no matter what. Soon all the adults were having a huge discussion about the upcoming Anniversary of Peace. Ron got sucked into the argument by trying to say that yes, there was peace now, and, no, there was nothing to fear. Only Hermione was left out, preferring not to get involved in that conversation.

The kids seemed to vary in age, all about one to two years apart. The youngest seemed about five, and the oldest about thirteen. One girl who looked about seven came up to Hermione shyly.

"Hi," she said softly. "Um, did you--" She looked back to her siblings. The older ones nodded their heads.

"Did you," she continued in a whisper, "Did you really know Harry Potter?"

Hermione sighed. She couldn't see why everybody kept bringing his memory to the surface. The smaller kids were now gathered around her, eager for an answer, and the older kid hung around the outside of the circle, not wanting to miss what would be said next, but not wanting to admit that they were interested in what the little kids were also interested in.

Hermione looked into their young faces and sighed again. "Yes, yes I did once know a Harry Potter."

There were some oohs and ahhs.

"So, what happened?" asked one of the older kids, not caring about what the others thought, only wanting to hear an answer.

Hermione hesitated. The kids were too young to know what really happened, or at least what Hermione thought happened. Hermione herself did not want to talk about it. She did not want to remember the boy she once knew, so brave and trusting, her best friend. She did not want to go through the pain of never knowing an answer, always wondering if Harry was alive or dead, where he was, and why he did not take her and Ron with him. Harry had never held secrets from his two best friends until that year. She should have known that he was planning something; she should have listened to him.

"Well?" prompted the oldest child, "Well?"

"Dinner!" shouted Mrs. Bollis. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The children looked disappointed, to say the least.

Hermione was quiet throughout dinner. Pictures and memories of her old best friend whirled inside her head. She missed him so much. Ron gave her a few quizzical glances, but saw that she wasn't feeling well and let her be.

Soon enough, dinner was over and Hermione was helping Mrs. Bollis clean up the dishes and put away the food while everyone else sat and talked. Hermione wasn't in the mood to join in. She could hear the kids shriek with laughter as they played with some new toy. Hermione hoped that the children forgot about asking Hermione Harry Potter questions. She sighed.

"Oh dear," said Mrs. Bollis. She had all her breakfast ingredients lined up and was counting and measuring them for the next morning. "I forgot to buy bread. I love the muggle bread they have around here, good sweet bread."

"Would you like me to get it for you, Mrs. Bollis?" Hermione offered. She could use some fresh air.

"Oh no, dear, it's in town, and you have to use muggle money. It's quite a hassle, really. I'll figure something out, don't you worry. But I did so have my heart set in making French toast tomorrow morning."

"I know how to use muggle money. I had to learn when I was a child. And town's not so far away, I think. It looked like about a fifteen minute walk. I could really get out a bit and stretch. It would be nice."

"Well, if you really want to, I guess," said Mrs. Bollis. She gave Hermione some money ("Now which bill has this guy on it?") and told her how to get to the bakery. "Thank you very much," said a relieved Mrs. Bollis.

"No problem," said Hermione, "No problem at all."

Hermione arrived at "Peter's Bakery" with her cheeks flushed from the cold air and her eyes sparkling from the exercise. Yes, she was happy to be out of the house.

She walked up to the door and pushed. It didn't open. She pulled. It didn't open. She looked inside. Yes, the lights were on.

She rapped on the windows. A very confused and flour-covered man came to the door. He unlocked it and stuck his head out.

"Um, we're closed now. It's ten thirty," he said.

"I'm--, I need to buy some bread," said Hermione. "It's for Mrs. Bollis."

"Well, she is one of my best customers," said the man. "Oh, alright. It looks like you walked and I can't send you away with nothing."

Hermione walked in. The heat of the shop contrasted sharply with the cold air she had gotten used to.

The man went in to the back room and got a loaf of bread. "That will be three dollars," he said while walking out, putting the bread in a plastic bag.

Hermione pulled out the money and paid. "Thank you."

"Your welcome," said the man, "Have a good walk home."

Hermione waved good bye and walked back outside into the cold night, bread in hand.

----------------

James came out of the bathroom.

"Who was that?" he asked. He saw a lady turn the corner, tightly wrapped in a jacket and scarf, holding a loaf of bread.

"Oh, just a woman who needed some bread. Came in name of one of my best customers, and she walked, so I couldn't turn her away," explained Peter.

"You're such a softie."

Sarah walked in. "I finished putting away the éclairs. I'm pooped. I'm heading upstairs."

James and Peter agreed and they walked up to Peter's apartment.

Peter gave James a sleeping bag and James set up his "bed."

"I'm finished!" shouted Emma as she walked out of the bathroom. "All clean!"

"Good," said James, "My turn."

James went in to the washroom and shut the door. He brought his face close to the mirror and examined his hair. His roots were black. _Gotta__ get some more brown dye_, he told himself.

He quickly washed his face and then walked out. Jacob and Sarah looked as if they were in a fight for who got the bathroom next.

"I get it," shrieked Sarah.

"No me! I've been waiting longer!" yelled Jacob in return.

James shook his head while Peter took the opportunity to use the bathroom. He shut the door and Jacob and Sarah looked up. They both ran to the closed door and started banging on it.

"You idiot!" shouted Sarah, "We were waiting!"

"You snooze, you lose," sang Peter from inside the bathroom.

Jacob and Sarah continued to bang.

James and Emma were cracking up, on the floor in hysterics.

Once everybody was settled, the group crawled into their beds. James took his solution case out of his pants pocket next to him. He took out his brown colored contacts from his eyes. He didn't have to use glasses anymore, not with these contacts.

He didn't bother to change into anything more comfortable for bed, as he didn't have any other clothes with him. Just his shirt and boxers.

James settled down comfortably in his sleeping bag. His pill jar made a bulge in his pants, lying in a heap next to the sleeping bag, as if trying to remind James to swallow the two pills he forgot to take. Harry was too tired too notice, though, and fell asleep.

Authors note: Lots of love to my loyal readers:

Otaku freak

Phoenix

Hannah Abby

Bayleigh Ford

Chochang913

RicaSieg(aka Blossom)

Hpgurl14

Suzybeth

Thanks a bunch for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	5. Searching and Dreaming

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall draws near, Ron and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.

**Note**: I will be away for a week camping **without** a computer. Check back on Sunday the eighth of April, or on Monday the ninth. Enjoy reading!

Chapter 5: Searching and Dreaming

----------------

Hermione couldn't fall asleep. It must have been 1:00 in the morning, and she was still awake. She looked over at Ron. He was sound asleep as a baby.

Hermione tried to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing. It was working for a moment, and she could tell that she was just about to fall asleep, but a wrinkle on the sheet under her was starting to get too uncomfortable. She opened her eyes. Nothing was working.

So she let her mind wander. Let it think about as much as it wanted too. Then, maybe, she could fall asleep.

She thought about Ron, and how much she loved him, and about Ginny and Daniel, and whether they would be happy together. She thought about Ginny, and, _(That's a terrible thing to think_, she told herself) if she was just marrying Daniel because she subconsciously wanted to keep the memory of her old fiancé alive. Hermione frowned. She remembered how shocked she was when she heard that Ginny and Draco were going to get married, (it still felt strange to Hermione to call him Draco) and how mad Ron was, but she especially remembered that Harry was not surprised.

Indeed, it seemed as if the year he pulled farther and farther away from Hermione and Ron, he became friends with Draco. Neither she nor Ron could figure out how these two enemies had become friends, but somehow they had, and Ginny had, too. But in an instant Draco was taken as one of the hostages.

Ginny fell apart, and Harry blocked himself off from everyone else. He turned quiet, secretive, and determined. He worked hard and became Head Auror of his department. Ron and Hermione's boss. And he became more and more secretive, and more and more independent. And he started manipulating information.

Hermione could feel her eyes watering. This was not going to help her sleep. _C'mon_, she told herself, _Think happy thoughts. Don't dwell on memories_. She thought of when she would find Harry (_And I will_, she thought fiercely) and how happy he would be to see her, and how she would bring Harry home to Ron, and Molly, and Ginny, and everybody, and how wonderful everything would be.

She thought of something and sat up.

"Ron," she said, shaking her husband, "Ron, wake up!"

'Mmuph," answered Ron.

"Ron--"

"What, I'm up, I'm up, what?"

"Have you checked in Canada?" asked Hermione urgently.

"What?"

"Checked, you know, for Harry?"

"'Scuse me?"

"With the thing! You know what I mean!"

"Oh, yeah. No."

The "thing" was a Magic Detector, a tool used for finding people with magic, and it gave levels on how much magic (or ability) a person had inside them. It was the same device used by Hogwarts and other schools for finding potential wizards and witches.

"You haven't?" asked Hermione.

Ron shook his head.

"Then do it! Now!"

"Why now? I'm really tired. How 'bout in the morning?"

"No, _dear_, now. And I mean _now_."

Ron mumbled and got out of bed. He searched through his luggage and found a small cube and brought it over to Hermione. She insisted on carrying with her everywhere.

Hermione unwrapped the cube to make a flat square, on which there were a bunch of orange dots with numbers underneath them. It had a range of about 100 km to detect people with. The numbers consisted of a letter (A was the weakest magic ability, E was the highest) and a percent of how much was being used. The percent usually stayed at about 30 if the wizard or witch was just acting normally, but would jump to 60 for a common spell, and about 85 for a very complicated spell. Both Ron and Hermione were C magic levels, which was normal. Dumbledore was a D magic level. So was Voldemort. The Hogwarts founders had been E magic levels. And the most recent E leveled person was Harry. Harry Potter. Which was why he was so special, and why this Magic Detector was so useful to Ron and Hermione.

They stared at the bored.

"I don't see any E's," said Ron.

"Hey look at that!" said Hermione, pointing to the grid. "There's a person who is going up in levels. Can you do that?"

"Don't know. I don't think so." They stared at the shifting letters. "Oh, but it's going back down again. Hey! Look, it's gone. Must have been a fluke. Or muggle machinery."

Hermione looked disappointed.

"Look, honey, let's go to sleep. I'm tired. You're tired. And if Harry's in this region, he'll still be here in the morning. Go to sleep."

"Okay," agreed Hermione reluctantly, "But we have to look in the morning. Promise?"

"Promise. Now can I go back to sleep?"

"Yes, yes."

Ron fell back to sleep immediately. Hermione stayed awake a bit longer, and then, finally, drifted into a dreamless sleep.

----------------

Harry tossed a turned in his sleep.

----(dream)----

He was there, again, on the top of the plateau, battling Voldemort. Death Eaters surrounded them. They had rushed up as soon as Harry had snapped, to make sure nothing happened to their Lord (a few ran away, but most of them stayed).

Harry had tears in his eyes, and his throat felt choked up, but he would not let anyone see him cry. He felt blood pouring down his back, but he was numb to the pain. All he could think about was killing the creature in front of him, who had torn apart so many lives. Harry focused his power on him.

And Voldemort did look frightened. Harry had broken out of his bonds and stupefied several Death Eaters with no wand. But now that he retrieved it, he could be more powerful.

Harry could see the aurors coming up the hill. No doubt Ron and Hermione told them where he was. Harry must work fast.

"You have destroyed so many people's lives..." growled Harry.

Voldemort made a feeble attempt to gain back control.

"Come Harry," he said, "You are so powerful, if me and you were ruling together, just think, the world could be ours."

"Nice try, but no." Harry advanced further, dodging a killing curse and blocking a stupefying curse. The Death Eaters stood still, either shocked, or too frightened to get into the fight.

Harry said a few spells to render Voldemort wandless, but Voldemort kept dodging.

"Come with me Harry," he said, "We will be a team."

"No," answered Harry, and finally captured Voldemort's wand. "Give up," said Harry. "You're dead."

"No, no" protested Voldemort, "Join me, Harry, it's your destiny."

"You're nuts," mumbled Harry. "Absolutely nuts."

"I'd like to see you try to kill me. But know that I will return-- my spirit will remain through my loyal followers. And know that I, Lord Voldemort, have made a taint on the whole world. Nobody will forget me." He laughed a crazy laugh. "Your parents were fools, boy. Any idiot can see that. Nobody--"

But Voldemort never got a chance to finish his speech. Harry shouted the killing curse. He had to cast the spell several times before he was sure Voldemort was dead. Indeed, that man had so little human left in him, that it was hard for Harry to tell when he was dead.

And then, all was quiet.

Harry turned around. He saw Ron and Hermione running up the hill to meet him. They were laughing and smiling. They were all in a green valley with the sun shinning. The Death Eaters had disappeared.

Suddenly, a shadow fell on the valley. It looked as if Ron and Hermione had stuck a wall. They stood stalk-still for a moment, and then fell down dead.

A cruel laughter echoed off the mountains. Everything turned dark. There was no longer a green valley, but the same plateau they had been on before. Harry slowly turned around.

Voldemort stood directly behind him laughing. He snatched Harry's wand.

"Your friends have joined me," he said. Behind Voldemort stood Ron and Hermione in Death Eater robes, their smiles full of malice. "Now you must too."

"No," Harry whispered. Then louder, "No!"

Ron and Hermione snickered. Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.

Harry was seized by a fit of madness, with one word in his mind: kill.

"Avada Kedevra!" he shouted, pointing his finger at Ron, killing him.

"Avada Kedevra!" he shouted again, and Hermione was dead.

"AVADA--"

"JAMES!" yelled Peter.

James woke with a start to the bright light of Peter's living room. He was sweating all over. His shirt and boxers were soaked.

"Wha- What happened?" James choked out. He felt the power inside him. It was very strong, squeezing him, choking him.

"You had a nightmare," explained Peter. "I heard you and rushed over here. The others are still asleep."

"What did I do?" asked James, nervously, breathlessly. He could feel the power in him recede a little, as if guilty that it had been caught acting up.

"You yelled a whole lot, then pointed at me and yelled 'Abraa Kadabra', or something, or at least you were going to, but you just said 'Abraa' before I stopped you."

"Oh god," said James, "My own best friend."

He saw the pill jar making an obnoxiously large bulge in Harry's pants by his sleeping bag, and lunged for it. He couldn't contain his shock and disbelief of almost accidentally killing his own best friend. He laughed hysterically while he struggled to get the jar open.

"You know," James giggled insanely, "It will sneak up on you. When you're not looking. Just like that." He finally got the bottle open. He kept laughing. "It's always against you. Like an enemy that you can't trust, but who is part of you." James gulped down several pills with out water. "I ask you, how can I win against it? It will ruin your life. Just like it ruined mine." He gulped down several more pills. His hysterical laughter slowly receded into sobs. "Oh god," he sobbed softly, helplessly. "What can I do?" James shook his head. "What can I do?"

"Shh," said Peter, "You're just tired. Go back to sleep. We'll sort this out in the morning."

James nodded and slowly climbed back into his sleeping bag. Through the dark blue glass pill jar, he could see it pill by pill refilling. It refilled slowly, about a pill every 2 seconds, and it still had about halfway to go.

"There," said Peter. "Now go to sleep. I'm tired too."

In truth, Peter had no clue what to do. He could tell something was...off-balance with James, but he couldn't figure out what. He knew, though, that James did not want the others to know. Peter sighed. Best thing to do was probably just forget about it. He had known James for a bit less than ten years now, and they were like brothers. Peter knew that he should not bring the incident up unless James brought the topic up himself. Yes, that would be the best course of action.

"Goodnight," said Peter to the sleeping James, and turned off the light.

Authors note: Kudos to the readers who reviewed:

Amy

Piri Malfoy

RedFeather

Phoenix

Chochang913

Otaku freak

Twirlgirl04

Claudia Ramirez

Thank you so much for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	6. French Toast and School Days

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

**Author's note**: Sorry that it is such a sort chapter, and a bit...mundane. But, trust me, I have some real action coming up. In fact, I've mapped it out pretty completely for chapters seven through ten. And because I am feeling so bad for this short chapter, I'll give you a quick glimpse of what will happen soon: we get to travel halfway across the world to see what's happening meanwhile at Hogwarts, Harry remembers a friendship, we find out where those annoying pills came from (chapter 8, I promise!), and-- (okay, I don't want to spoil it so I'll just tell you this: it's big...).

P.s. I was going for a "normal day" for Harry in this chapter. And we see the beginnings of a bigger conflict for Ginny... Crap! I've said too much! Forget what you just read! 0)

Chapter 6: French Toast and School Days

----------------

"Good morning!"

Hermione woke with a start. Mrs. Bollis' face was very close to Hermione's, and the lady was smiling from ear to ear.

"I made fresh French toast! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Uh, sure," said Hermione shakily, "Um, what time is it?"

"Ten o'clock! Your dear husband is already downstairs. My my, weren't we sleepy today? Good thing I woke you up before all the breakfast was gone!"

"Thanks..." said Hermione, wishing that she could go straight back to sleep.

"Come on come on! Up up up! Rise and shine! Better get changed so we can go downstairs and some delicious French toast. Come on!"

Mrs. Bollis seemed overly excited about breakfast. Hermione just sat on the bed and stared and the very happy person.

"Well?" said Mrs. Bollis, calming down. She had her hands on her knees and was inches away from Hermione. "Well? Aren't you going to get changed?"

"Uh, sure," said Hermione.

"Good!" exclaimed Mrs. Bollis. "I'll just be downstairs!" And she swiftly walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long day. At least she and Ron planed to leave for England soon.

She suddenly remembered about scanning for Harry, and Hermione jumped out of bed and grabbed her Magic Detector cube.

After opening it and staring at the board for a good ten minutes, she frowned and put it away. _Where can he be_? she thought to herself angrily.

She slowly got dressed and went downstairs.

The table was piled high with French toast and bottles of syrup.

"Ginny and Daniel went out for a walk, so it's just us chickens here now," said Mr. Bollis. Hermione groaned inwardly. "Us chickens" were Ron and herself, plus Mr. and Mrs. Bollis. Hermione sat down and severed herself some French toast.

"Good morning," said Ron, kissing her on the cheek.

"Morning," answered Hermione.

"So, how did you sleep?" asked Mr. Bollis.

"Well enough, thank you."

"We were just discussing Ron's new promotion. A job well done, I say."

Ron was an Auror. He was going to get a job in the Ministry, like his father, but was pulled towards his current occupation partly because of the war, and partly because Harry was obviously going into it, and so he and Hermione had wanted to support and protect Harry, and they too became Aurors. The job sort of grew on Ron, and he came to enjoy his work after the war was over. He liked to search for people and clues, track down criminals, and be one of the more powerful and respected members of society.

Hermione had been an Auror, but quit after the war, partly because she never liked the job, partly because the war was over and Harry gone so she had no incentive, and partly because it brought back memories of how she had been the one who failed as an Auror, who put Harry in danger, who caused Harry the pain. It had been she who insisted that Ron and herself should not follow Harry's instructions, but to go where _she_ thought they should go.

Now she was a teacher at Hogwarts (_Big surprise there_, she thought to herself) and, miracles of miracles, she was one of the _two_ Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. Remus Lupin was the other DADA teacher. He and Hermione started teaching at the same time, as each one had convinced the other to teach, and had been there for about eight years. Hermione thought it was hilarious that they had been teaching DADA for eight years without a major glitch. She taught the first and second years, and Lupin taught the rest. That was arranged mostly because the school thought it would be safer for Lupin to teach the more mature students "due to his condition," as they put it.

"More French toast, dear?" asked Mrs. Bollis.

"Well uh," Hermione had already had her fill of French toast, but to be polite (_Well, there is a lot left_...) she answered, "Sure, why not."

Mrs. Bollis heaped several pieces onto Hermione's plate.

"Uh, thanks."

"Any time, dearie."

A little later, Ron and Hermione headed up to their room to get ready for a walk they would take to see the city.

"Do we have to go for a walk now?" asked Hermione, "I'm so full I could burst."

Ron tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't contain it and fell into a fit of laughter.

"You should have seen how much French toast you ate!" he choked out, "Boy, was Mrs. Bollis happy!"

Hermione glared at her husband. She never wanted to hear the words "French" and "toast" in the same sentence. Ever.

Ron continued laughing.

"She just kept piling it on your plate, and you kept eating! I've never seen anything like it!"

Ron's hysterical laughing slightly lessened when he saw Hermione's death glare.

"Okay, okay, I've stopped laughing. See? Nothing's funny."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously, there's nothing funny about it. I'm not laughing." Ron tried to look serious. He took a few deep breaths.

"Now then," said Hermione, "Do you think I should change what I'm wearing?"

"Oh yes," said Ron, nodding.

"Really?"

"Really. Because the one you're wearing is probably a bit sticky from all the syrup and French toast you ate this morning!" Ron burst into a new fit of hysterics.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I really don't see what's so funny."

Ron was now sitting on the bed, clutching his stomach.

"Ron-" said Hermione exasperatedly. "Come on-- Hello?" Then finally shouted, "RON!" and whacked her husband on the head. "Stop laughing like a madman!"

Ron slowly quieted again.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

In the background they could hear the front door close.

"I'm just going to go upstairs quickly," said a shaky voice of Ginny's.

They heard her hurry upstairs a shut her door.

"I wonder what that could be about?" wondered Hermione aloud.

"Something's definitely wrong," said Ron.

The two both walked over to Ginny's room.

Hermione knocked. "Ginny? Are you all right?"

"Fine," came Ginny's voice from inside, muffled from crying.

Ron opened the door.

Ginny's eyes were red and she had tears on her cheeks.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," she answered.

"Come on, Ginny," coaxed Hermione, "Something's obviously wrong."

"It's just that I feel so awful. Nervous and confused and-- And well, do you guys think I'm a bad person if a marry Daniel?"

"Ginny, that doesn't make sense," said Ron.

"No, it does. I would be forgetting Draco if I married Daniel."

Ron muttered something about "bad memories anyway," but Hermione hit him on the arm before he could say anything else.

"No," said Hermione, glaring at her husband, "No, you would not be forgetting Draco if you re-married. Because if you really care about Daniel, and you love him, and you will be happy, then that's all that matters. Trust me; Draco will be happy as long as you are happy. You don't think that he wants to look down from heaven, or where ever he is, and see the woman he loves unhappy, right? No, he will be happy for you. Draco knows that you will always love him, and never forget him. _I_ know that you love him and won't forget him. Even Ron knows that, though he won't admit it."

Ginny smiled a bit.

"There, see? Don't worry. Everything will be wonderful." Hermione gave Ginny a hug. "Come on, Ron and I still need to be shown around Calgary."

Ginny hesitated, but seeing no major flaw, she wiped her tears and said quietly, "Okay. Um, thanks Hermione. I'm probably just tired or something."

"Anything I can do, just tell me. Come on, Ron, let's hurry downstairs."

Ginny came down a few minutes later.

And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Bollis, Daniel, Ron, Hermione, and a still-uncertain-yet-mostly-positive Ginny set out to explore the city.

----------------

James woke up early. In fact, it was 4:30 AM, and still dark out. He put in his contacts, gathered his things, and crept out of Peter's house. He got into his car to drive back home.

He thought about what happened that night. He tried to justify his sneaking out of the bakery by saying he needed to dye his roots, and get ready for class, but he knew it was because he did not want to face his best friend. James thought that Peter was bound to ask questions, and James absolutely did not want to answer them. Or even think about them.

_In fact, as of now_, he decided, _last night did not happen. I did not have a bad dream, and I did not almost kill my best friend. I have no idea of what I dreamed, I did not know anyone in it, and I have no idea why people were shouting funny words and holding sticks. There is only this world. There is no such thing as _-_- There is no such thing as _--

James frowned. He couldn't say it. I couldn't say the "m-word." And denying his past and his dream that night just left a sick feeling in his stomach.

James turned into the garage to his apartment. It was a small building, with only twelve or so tenants. The landlord was a kind old man, who used to run the complex with his wife.

James approached his door, found his keys, and opened it. His apartment had a small kitchen and living room on one end, and on bedroom and bathroom.

As soon as James walked in, his cat, Luis, ran up to him and ran around his feet, meowing.

"Ok, ok, shh," James told the cat.

Luis sat in front of James and looked up at him, with his big yellow eyes. James laughed. He bent down and scooped up the grey cat.

"And how was your night alone?" he asked Luis, cradling the cat. "I hope you didn't invite all your friends over and throw a wild party."

Luis meowed, as if in answer.

James laughed and gave the cat a kiss on the head before setting Luis down.

Luis was really more of a kitten than a cat. He was about eleven months old and was a Blue Russian. Luis had been eight weeks old when Sarah, Jacob, and Peter gave the kitten to James. A present because, as Sarah put it, "Jamesie always looked so lonely and lived the farthest away from everyone else, and therefore needed a cat." James had become very attached to Luis, and the cat was often James' only comfort when he fell into "one of his moods."

James put a scoop of cat food in Luis' dish and then walked to the bathroom to dye his hair and take a shower.

About an hour later James was now clean and had a full head of nicely brown hair. He had to use an obnoxious amount of dye to get his hair a dark brown since his color was really black. James put on slacks and a polo shirt and sat down at the table to plan out the school day.

It was a pretty simple day, really. They were going to go over the homework, do some math sheets, then finish up some projects to present on the end of school Parent's Night, which was that night. At least they had phys. ed. that day, and so another teacher would have them for that period.

Around 7:30 AM James swallowed a few of his pills and left his apartment to get to the school twenty minutes before school started, at 8:00.

The school day was rather uneventful, until one interesting conversation the class took part in while they were supposed to be working on their projects that afternoon.

"Mr. Potterson, my world map project sucks. Is that bad?" asked Jason. The class giggled at his comment. Jason was regarded as the "class clown", the troublemaker.

"No, Jason, it does not 'suck'," said James, "And would you please not use that word to describe yourself or your work."

"But look at it! It's hideous! North America looks more like a rock than anything, and Africa is non-existent!"

The class was laughing pretty hard, and that caused James to smile.

"Yeah, my project doesn't look so great either," said another boy, named Anthony.

"Whose parents would want to look at this?" piped up one girl.

The class started all talking at once, comparing bad projects, quizzes, or tests. Each student exclaimed how if they were a parent they would want to see stuff that was much more interesting.

"Hey Mr. Potterson," said Jason loudly, "If you were a parent - you're not, are you? - would you want to look at this?"

"No, I am not a parent, and yes, I would be delighted to see all of your work. If I was a parent," answered James.

"Nah, you're just saying that because you're our teacher," said Anthony.

"Did _you_ ever have a parent night at your school?" asked Jason.

The whole class was quiet, eager for his answer.

It was a peculiar thing. James used his childhood adventures and turned them into wonderful stories for his class (the stories were a little warped to exclude any wizarding factors). He told them about his childhood at Hogwarts (he called the school England Academy) and in this way lived his past in the way he now wished he had lived it. Free from the wizarding world.

But James did not know how to answer this question. He couldn't tell them about his Aunt and Uncle, nor did his wish to tell the class that his parents had died. So he went with the quickest option.

"I don't think we had parent night," James answered. The students' faces fell a bit as they realized there would be no story.

"But," James hurriedly continued, as the kids smiled; glad to be hearing some sort of tale, "As you know I went to a boarding school. So my family there was really just my best friends. We had such fun doing homework." Each of the 5th graders had a look of disbelief on their faces. "Some of the homework, that is. Hey, don't try this at home, because we did end up not doing so well in the course, but we had one class where we started learning a bit of psychology, and we had to write down our dreams and say what they meant. I and my friends made up all sorts of things!"

And James proceeded to tell his students all about his Divination class, except it was a psychology class, and about the teacher, and how she kept proclaiming that James' dreams meant death, and just how crazy that class was.

Before he knew it, there was only an hour left of school and James had to stop his story and urge the kids to finish their work.

They finished just on time, and left the room, full of goodbyes and see-ya-later's for James.

The room was quiet, and James whistled to himself as he posted the projects on the walls and tucked in the chairs.

_Yep_, he thought to himself, _Today was a good day_.

Yay to the wonderful people who reviewed! (And if you haven't, please tell me what you think of my fic)

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Thank you so much for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	7. Love Stories and Scars

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

**Author's note**: No, I did not die or become deathly sick; my computer did. That's why this chapter took so long. Don't worry, I didn't forget you guys!

Chapter 7: Love Stories and Scars

----------------

Remus Lupin sat at his desk waiting for the first years to come in for their DADA class.

Hermione ("Professor Granger," she kept her maiden name for teaching, because in her opinion it sounded better) was going on her trip to Canada and needed a substitute for the week that was two weeks before exams. She nominated Lupin, saying it was easier and less costly, and, after much debate, the school finally let him substitute the younger classes.

Lupin was nervous. He knew it sounded stupid, to be afraid of young kids, after all, he did teach the older ones, but he didn't really feel like he knew how to handle younger kids. Would they like him? Would they be scared of him? How would they act?

Lupin wanted to do a good job. He wanted to show the school how trustworthy he was, and show the parents that he was harmless. But to do that, the students needed to like him. And there was his dilemma.

Lupin was teaching the Gryffindors and Slytherins today, and he desperately hoped that there would be no major rivalry. It was only first years, after all.

Students started to filter in.

"Where is Professor Granger?"

"Who is going to teach us?"

"Probably that man over there!"

"He teaches the older years, right?"

"Yeah, but my brother said that he was pretty cool, though."

"Really?"

"I heard that he taught here before. Harry Potter was actually one of his pupils, so my uncle says. But they fired the professor because parents didn't like their kids being taught by a were--"

Lupin cleared his throat. "Can everybody please sit down now, so I may begin class?"

The students quietly went to their seats. Lupin's soft voice had a certain effect on them.

"Now, I am Professor Lupin, and I will be substituting this week." Lupin saw that the students wanted to ask questions, so he hurriedly went on, "Professor Granger is in Canada visiting family. Um, she informed me that you had just finished studying some basic defense spells, and that she wanted me to review those with you and teach you the 'Enervate' spell. So, um, I think we should start now." Lupin paused. The students did not look very enthralled.

"Why don't we go around and say what spell we most need work in, and, um, your names and house," Lupin offered. The students made no movement. Lupin checked the time. It had been ten minutes already.

"Here, I'll go first," he said. "My name is Remus Lupin, that's Professor Lupin to you, I was in the Gryffindor house when I went to school here, and the spell I most need work on is the spell to get more students to participate in my class." A few students smiled at his attempt to use a little humor.

A girl hesitatingly raised her hand.

Lupin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes?" he called on the girl.

She stood up. "Um, okay, my name is Patricia Abbot and I am part of the Gryffindor house, and I need help with the 'Expelliarmus' spell." The girl sat down and looked relieved.

Lupin looked around.

A boy held up his hand to introduce himself.

"Yes?"

"I am Nathan Weasley, I am part of the Gryffindor house, and I also need help with the 'Expelliarmus' spell."

Lupin held his breath, waiting to hear a sarcastic comment from the Slytherins, like "that's because you can't catch the wand, Weasley!" or "Help? he can't even _do_ that spell!". But the sarcastic comment never came. A few of them just rolled their eyes.

Either the Slytherins were just tired, or this must be the generation born after the war, without the fierce hatred against their fellow Gryffindors like Lupin's older classes.

More students introduced themselves, and soon the whole class was done. They seemed to all need help with the same spell, "Expelliarmus," and so Lupin decided to demonstrate and re-teach them how to perform it.

"Now, I need a volunteer who feels that he or she is pretty good at that spell." A Slytherin in the back raised his hand.

"Okay, and you should come up to the front and stand right about there." Lupin directed the student to about ten feet in front of him.

"Now, Stuart, right? yes, Stuart here is going to try to disarm me."

The boy gripped his want and concentrated, pointing his wand at Lupin's wand and saying the spell. The wand flew from Remus's grasp into Stuart's hand. The class applauded politely.

"Now, Stuart will explain how he did it."

The kid blanched.

"Um, professor? I am supposed to explain?"

"Yes, because no matter how many times I tell everyone how to do it, students will never understand a concept half as well as they will if another student explains it to them. Go ahead."

"Um, okay, you sort of point your wand and the object you want to come to you, so I guess the other wand, and you think about catching the wand when it comes to you. I try to picture myself holding it," the boy gained confidence as he saw that the class was not laughing and were actually taking his advice seriously, "and then I say the spell in my head, and then I speak it clearly, with a slight accent on the second syllable, and then another accent on the '-ar-' part. But you can't drop your concentration just then, you need to keep thinking about the spell and catching the wand until you have the other wand in your hand."

The class nodded in understanding and realization.

"Thank you Stuart," said Lupin. "You can sit back down now. This is one of the most useful spells used in defense, for what harm can a wizard really do to you with out his wand? Many people have used this spell as a way to end war and battles."

"Like Harry Potter?" asked a student.

"Maybe, but you'll learn more about him next year. Now--"

"What _do_ we learn next year?" asked another student.

"I think the history of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Like about the dark wizards and how and why they were defeated."

"Will Professor Granger teach us about Draco Malfoy?" asked a Gryffindor girl.

Remus shook his head and sighed to himself.

While Harry was still acknowledged as the "hero" of the Great War, Draco's history took a turn that he would probably be slightly annoyed about.

There were many war heroes, such as Dumbledore and Snape and Hagrid, and while Hermione and Ron were still "war heroes" that were asked to speak at conferences and could be read about in books of the Great War, it was really Draco and Harry that were considered the big heroes. Harry was a household name, and was even part of a few expressions, such as "think about Harry" as something to say when someone wanted to give up, and "Harry would be proud" would be said to someone who had just done something brave. Malfoy was one of the more frequent stories that parents told their children at night.

He was known as the "Great General" who led the war that eradicated many dark creatures, people, and death eaters. He was captured - unfairly, as the legend says, of course, - and taken hostage by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He and Ginny's marriage and relationship had become a sort of "Romeo and Juliet" story, as Malfoy had been a part of only a handful of Slytherins to join against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he fell in love with a Gryffindor. When he was taken hostage, he was said to have been the first person killed - it was either death or join the dark side - and he died bravely for his county and world, with his last thought of Ginny Weasley. He had also been known as Harry's "number one man" through out the war. They were always side-by-side in battle, and Draco helped and saved Harry until the very end.

Malfoy was the classic "tragic hero" and he and Ginny were the most popular love story. The pair made for the type of story that girls everywhere loved. The stories were built up and exaggerated, of course, with Draco rescuing Ginny several times and speaking bravely of her at his last moment, but much of the story that was told was true.

_Yes_, thought Lupin, _Malfoy would definitely not have wished to be remembered as the classic lover_.

"Yeah," shouted another girl, "I hope we get to hear all about him and Ginny."

"No way," said a boy from Slytherin, "We should hear about the final battle between Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Nu-uh, said a Gryffindor girl, "Malfoy."

"Potter," said a Slytherin boy.

Lupin sighed and gave up.

There was a full-fledged war between the boys and the girls.

"MALFOY!"

"POTTER!"

"MALFOY!"

"POTTER!"

It went back and forth. Remus did not know what to do. He found it terribly funny that the Slytherin boys were rooting for Harry Potter, and the Gryffindor girls were rooting for Draco Malfoy. That would have never happened when Lupin had taught here so long ago. (Well, the girls probably were secretly rooting for Malfoy, but that was a different story...)

"Alright! Enough!" shouted Professor Lupin. "I'll talk to Professor Granger and see what I can do to make sure that you all get to hear about Harry Potter _and_ Draco Malfoy." Remus smiled sweetly. "I'll tell her to give you all lots and lots of homework and papers on the two subjects."

The class groaned and laughed.

"Now," said Lupin, still smiling from humor of the whole situation, "Let's keep working on those spells."

----------------

Parent night was a success.

The parents all seemed to like their kid's projects and enjoy meeting "Mr. Potterson".

Nothing had gone wrong, which was definitely a relief to James.

He drove up to his apartment whistling to himself. He opened his door and walked in, giving Luis a pet.

James pressed the play button on his answering machine to see if anyone called.

_Beep_. "Hello Mr. Potterson, this is Calgary Veterinarian and we are reminding you that your cat needs a check-up in two weeks. Please call to make an appointment."

_Beep_. "Hi James, it's me, Peter. Um, I'm going to be in the neighborhood, so I was thinking of dropping by around nine. See you then!"

_Beep_. Click.

James looked at his watch. It was almost 9:00.

There was a knock on James's door, which he went to open.

"Hi, James," said Peter.

"Hey."

"So," said Peter walking in, "How was Parent Night?"

"Fine," answered James. He felt rather awkward around Peter right then, because James kept thinking about the night before and his near murder of Peter.

"You know," went on Peter, "I was just dropping by to ask you if you would help me on Thursday, for the wedding. That's when I have to start working on the éclairs, and I know that Friday is the last day of school for you, so you shouldn't have too much work to do."

"I see you've done your research," said James dryly.

"Oh, come on James. Emma and Jacob are, well... hopeless when it comes to cooking, I mean, they can mix stuff and measure stuff, but they cannot put it all together. I need you."

"I did help you on Sunday, though," teased James.

"Okay, okay. If you promise to help me, I'll make you the pumpkin pie you're always asking for."

"It's a deal," said James.

"Stupid..." mumbled Peter, "Pumpkins aren't even in season now..."

James laughed good-naturedly.

"You don't really have to make me pumpkin pie now, Peter," he said, smiling, "I'll help you because you're my friend, and because this way you'll have to make me an extra pumpkin pie in the fall."

"Thanks James," Peter said wryly, "That's real sweet of you."

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Um, no. My family is going to spend next Christmas in England, and we were wondering if you would like to come with us. You are really considered part of the family, you know."

James blanked.

He had spent every Christmas with the Hardings, and he loved being with them. James looked at Peter and could tell that he wanted James to go. They really were like family. Almost every other Sunday all the Hardings and James got together to have a huge dinner. They would always have so much fun. James loved every Harding family member, Peter, Ryan, Olivia, Mr. and Mrs. Harding, even the scores of Harding relatives he met.

So when Peter asked if James could spend Christmas with them in England, James should have had no problem with the answer: yes, of course. But James knew what was in England. His old school, friends, teachers, even his family, of which there was only Petunia, Dudley and Dudley's wife. His whole life, as it used to be, was there. There would be a good chance of being seen.

"Where in England?" asked James.

"Um, near London, probably. That's where our family was hoping to go. We could rent an apartment, or something. We would go for about two weeks." Peter ended his phrase as if it were a question. He was supplying more information to help persuade James.

James sighed. He was being pulled in two different directions. He wanted to go with the Hardings, but he did not want to go to England.

James looked at his best friend.

_It's only two weeks_, he thought. _I can dye my hair right before I go, and take my pills on the hour. I'll stay only with the Hardings. Go were they go, do what they do. It's not like they're going to walk right down Diagon Alley. And besides, it will be Christmas, and everyone will be with their family, not searching for some great person_.

"Um--" _But what if_? asked an annoying voice in James' head. "Um--" _Only two weeks_... said another voice.

Peter looked at James quizzically.

"Um, Peter, I think I'll..." _Must make decision_... "I'll come." _Phew_.

"Great!" said Peter. "Trust me, it will be fun."

"Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Hey, you're like part of the family."

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" offered James. "I know for a fact that Sarah is at her book club meeting, so you'll be all alone."

"Now who has done their research?" joked Peter. "Sure, I'm always open to a free dinner. As long as it isn't a problem, of course."

"None at all. I've just got to heat up the tomato sauce and cook the pasta. Should take about ten minutes." James went over to the stove and started boiling some water.

He walked back and continued, "I've just got to get changed out of this suit and tie. Here," James turned on the television in front of where Peter was now sitting, "fill me in on what's going on in the world."

"More than happy to," said Peter smiling.

James walked into his bedroom, which was across from the TV room, and changed into some sweatpants.

He still had no shirt on when Peter leaned back on his chair to tell James something, when Peter caught a glimpse of James through the slightly open door.

Slam! Peter fell out of his chair.

"Jesus, James!" he yelled, hurriedly standing up. "What the hell happened?"

James had quickly yanked a shirt over him and walked out of the room.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Your back. The back of you. What happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," mumbled James, turning slightly red.

"Heck! You must know what I'm talking about. You've got scars all over your back."

"I think I should start the pasta now."

"Don't change the subject. You do this all the time. I've known you for almost ten years now, but there are some major things that I still don't know about you. I thought it was fine that you always wore a shirt when you went swimming, or a tee-shirt to bed. What are you hiding?"

The television was still blaring. Luis ran under the couch.

"Nothing," said James, gritting his teeth, "Absolutely nothing."

James was not expecting what would happen next.

Peter grabbed James's shirt and pulled it off him, tearing the shirt and hurting James.

"You call that nothing?" asked Peter, quite upset for his usual calm self.

James' back was lined with tan scars, slightly raised, all across his back. It was a mess of lines and crosses.

James turned bright red.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you asking these questions?" James said.

"Because you are my best friend and I don't know anything about you!" yelled Peter.

"You don't need to know _this_ about me."

"And why not? My friendship wouldn't change towards you whether you were some escaped convict from France, or some druggie rock star from America. What will make my friendship change towards you is whether you trust me or not."

"Look," said James angrily, "My past should not concern you at all. It's over. It's done. It's gone. I've changed, and have worked _extremely_ hard to forget what happened. But I do _not_ need you bringing the bad memories back for me!"

James hadn't felt this angry in a long time.

"All I'm saying," said Peter, still enraged, "Is that a lot of really strange things happen now and then, and you do not trust anyone enough to tell them. What was so bad that happened, anyway? And why are you so crazy about those pills you take? Whatever it was, it could not have been _that_ bad!"

"You have _no_ idea what you are talking about. _No_ idea." James could barely see, he was so angry.

_Calm down_, he told himself sharply,_ Anger is not a good thing...remember what will happen..._

James knew he couldn't control himself for very much longer.

"Peter, I think you should go," he said, quietly, trying to retain control over himself.

"Yes, I should," answered Peter curtly.

Peter swiftly picked up his things and walked straight out of James' apartment.

As soon as the door slammed, the TV burst, with sparks and smoke. James' anger and power had gotten the best of him.

James stood there, stock still. Then he reached into his pockets for his pills, and swallowed several.

He wearily sat down on the couch.

Luis crawled out from underneath and jumped up beside James.

_What have I done_? James asked of himself.

He looked at the pill jar, automatically petting Luis who was purring next to him.

And from deep within James poured forth the memories that he had tried so hard to bury. Memories of one of his best friends, now gone.

Which friend will it be? Ooh, and like I promised, origin of the pills are revealed in the NEXT chapter...yay.

Big hug to the wonderful people who reviewed! (Please keep telling me what you think!)

Venus4280

Anastacy

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Chochang913

TheRedFeatheryPlug

Hyper Princess

Claudia

Thank you so much for reviewing!

Love you all,

Adah


	8. Mirrors and Rantings

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

**Note:** Okay, you guys have seen Lord of the Rings, right? The movie, I mean. Well, I wrote such a long flashback that I decided to do like the Lord of the Rings people did, and release it in more than one part. I do have all of it written, so, I have finally decided (yes, I did spend five days debating whether or not to release it in two parts or one) that I will put the first part up now, and the second part up tomorrow, same time. So, if you would like to here where the pills came from, come back tomorrow. For nice Draco and Harry parts, read now.

Chapter 8: Mirrors and Rantings

-----------------

It was in the sixth year when they had become friends.

Harry and Draco.

And it was the strangest of friendships.

It had seemed as if for all the time that they had hated each other, they never had come to understand why.

When Harry was around Draco, it was a show. He was a Gryffindor, Draco was a Slytherin. Harry was the archenemy of Voldemort, and Draco's entire family was embedded in Voldemort's inner circle. Harry acted out the part of the famous rags to riches boy, standing up for what was right; Draco acted out the part of the rich spoiled brat who crushed those weaker than him.

But that's exactly what it was-- an act, a show.

In truth, they actually had a lot in common. They were both striving to live up to expectations, they were both trying to accomplish was right, they were both trying to find out _who_ they were amid all the webs of _what_ they were.

And it took six years for them to actually get to know each other.

Of course, it wasn't on purpose.

And it the friendship existed in secret - even to themselves - for a while.

Actually, the friendship began with complaints and rants.

----(flashback)----

Harry snuck out of his dormitory, which was actually quite difficult on account of the aurors, and, Mauderer's Map in hand, set off down the corridor.

Earlier that day, Hagrid had tipped them off that the Mirror of Erised was in Hogwarts, and Harry was determined to find it again.

He needed to look at his parents, and be reminded of who he was. It was like a magnet, pulling at him. Harry couldn't help himself. He _had_ to see his parents.

Harry was under his Invisibility Cloak and quietly opening every door he passed.

He knew it was a stupid thing to do, when the doors could easily creak, or even begin to laugh or shout, and sneaking around like this was a sure-fire way to get caught, especially with the tightened security. But all these doubts did not hinder him. The prospect of seeing his mother and father was too big of an urge to resist.

And then, ahead, he saw the door to the room he had visited so often in first year. The room that used to contain the mirror. Could that room be being used once again for the same purpose?

Harry walked slowly to the door, quietly turned the handle and walked in.

And there in the corner, was a mirror shaped object, a white sheet thrown over it.

Harry crept down the two stone steps walked around a fallen chair and stepped over an old glove, eyes locked on the shape of the mirror.

The dust in the room had been recently disturbed, and Harry was careful to stay in the path without dust, in order to avoid making footprints.

He walked up to the mirror-shape, standing in the darkest corner. Harry slowly pulled the sheet from the object. It fell in one simple, silent motion, and indeed, under it was the Mirror of Erised.

Harry was giddy with excitement.

He threw off his cloak and quietly sat down in front of the mirror, staring first at his reflection, and the looking up and behind his reflection.

There were his parents.

They hadn't aged on bit. His mother was still waving, his father still smiling. The whole Potter side was behind James, and the Evens side behind Lily. Harry could even make out Petunia way in the corner.

Harry breathed a bit easier, knowing that his deepest desire was still to see his family, and not to take over the world or something crazy like that.

He sat there, staring, for what must have been hours, until a noise suddenly startled him.

Quick as a rabbit, Harry grabbed his cloak and dashed behind the mirror, crouched in a triangle of two stone walls and the back of the mirror.

"You fool! What is the matter with you?" asked an angry voice on the other side of the room. Luckily, the person sounded too angry to notice anything usual around him.

"I--I--" came a shaken voice.

"You what? You made a mockery of yourself? You've ashamed me? You've royally pissed off the Dark Lord? Because that's what it looked like."

Harry heard the sound of a punch and a fall.

"Look at you! You're pitiful, lying there on the ground. What were you thinking? Do you know who you are? Do you know what your destiny is? Why throw that all away because of stupidity. You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name," spat the voice.

The person on the ground gave a soft whimper.

"You are going to go back next week. There will be another meeting, and I will be here at eight o'clock with another of Snape's portkeys. You will obey me and the Dark Lord. You will get the Dark Mark. _Understand_?"

A soft, defeated whisper of yes came from the boy who Harry assumed was Draco Malfoy.

"Good," said the man, "I'll be here next week, same time, and you will be here to meet me."

The man picked up something from the ground, whispered a spell, and was gone.

Malfoy groaned and sat up. And then it was quiet.

It was deathly silent for so long, that Harry thought that Malfoy must have left the room. It didn't make sense to Harry, because he would have heard the door open or some other noise, but as he strained his ears, he couldn't hear a thing.

So Harry slowly stepped out from his hiding spot and took a few steps.

And there was Malfoy on the opposite side of the room near the door, sitting against the stone wall, head leaned back, eyes closed.

Harry tried to jump back into his hiding spot, but he fell down and knocked over a desk in the process.

The noise was sudden and deafening.

"Who's there?" whispered Malfoy.

Harry mentally slapped himself on the head. _Stupid...you have an invisibility cloak, use it!_ He quickly draped the cloak over him and stood up.

Malfoy looked around, glanced at the fallen desk, and then closed his eyes again.

Harry quietly walked past him.

He wouldn't have been able to see it up close, but now that Harry looked at Malfoy, he realized the Malfoy was a complete mess. And appeared to be in a lot of pain.

Malfoy's hair and clothes were messy and wrinkled - some of his robe was torn - and it was easy to see patches of dirt all over him. He had a black eye forming and a slightly bleeding cut on his cheek.

But it wasn't just that. There was something unnerving to Harry at seeing Malfoy look so defeated. The normally proud and confident boy was now crumpled and tired, and looking for all the world as if someone had taken all his dignity and ran with it.

Harry had the feeling that he was spying on something forbidden. He was looking at his enemy, who never let himself look the least bit surprised or upset at anything, and now was living one of his most degrading moments.

Harry took a few more steps to try and get away from this situation, and to pretend as soon as possible that it hadn't ever happened, but his conscience got the better of him.

_Look at him_, his conscience said, _He's injured, and has just gotten back from what was obviously the Dark Mark ceremony, and he didn't get the Dark Mark, which means that he probably got the Crucio curse put on him_.

_But he's Malfoy_...

_There must be some reason he didn't get the Dark Mark. He's obviously got some sort of good side _--

_No way, not Malfoy_.

Harry was rooted to the spot as his internal debate went on.

_ But at this time of war_, insisted his conscience,_ The good side should take who they can get. It would not feel good to know that there was a chance to have another person against Voldemort, especially a person who could grow up to be powerful and destructive, and the "great Harry Potter" blew it_.

_But he's a Malfoy_...

_And what does that mean? What is so hateful about him? Now that he doesn't strongly support Death Eaters and the Dark Mark, he may not support Voldemort, which means that the only reason for hating him is gone_.

_No, he's a spoiled brat_.

_That can be excused. Look at his father, his family, his home life. You would end up like that, too_.

_Well, I guess it would be hard to open the door without him noticing something_...

_And Hermione has been teaching you those healing spells_.

_Fine, but I'm just going to talk to him...civilly, I promise_.

And with that Harry pulled off his cloak.

Malfoy still had his eyes closed.

_I hope he's not dead_...

Harry coughed a bit to become noticed.

Malfoy's eyes wearily opened. He looked at Harry with a dull surprise.

"Potter, what are you doing here?"

"Um, nothing. You?" Harry didn't quite know how to start a conversation with the boy in front off him with out yelling a whole lot.

"I am having a wild party. C'mon Potter, what does it look like?"

"Oh. Sorry." _That was a first...a willingly made apology to Malfoy_. "So, I over heard that you went to a Dark Mark ceremony."

"Well done, Potter, you've cracked the case. A portkey was _illegally_ set up for this room, so me and my father could go to a reception and have tea with the Dark Lord. Now is the part where the detective-hero, you, hauls the culprit, me, up to the headmaster's office."

"Look, Malfoy, I was just trying to be civil--"

"Well, you've chosen an excellent time to have a bonding session. Here, first I'll tell you about my cold-as-ice father and how I'm now on the Dark Lord's pissed-off list, and then you can tell me about how wonderful it is to have friends and fame and glory."

"But--"

"Just go away and leave me alone."

Harry turned to leave, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided one question wouldn't harm anything.

"Um, Malfoy, why didn't you get the Dark Mark?"

"So you 'overheard' that too?" Malfoy was getting more and more cynical and bitter.

"Look, what's your business is your business. That was a rude question, I didn't mean it. I'll leave now."

"Didn't mean it? Of course you meant it. You want to know why the guy who has been gloating for the past six years at being on the Dark Lord's side, finally had his chance to join it and said no. You want to know why? I'll tell you. Because I finally saw what I wanted to be, and I didn't want it anymore. Go ahead, say it. I know you want to. 'I told you so,' that's what you want to say, isn't it?"

Harry shook his head no.

Malfoy laughed a bit, a hollow laugh with no mirth. "Isn't it strange, Potter," Malfoy said, more talking to himself than Harry, "That I finally had my chance to prove myself to be one of the Dark Lord's most trusted drones, and I completely botched it. I mean, even when I do get the Dark Mark next week, the Dark Lord still won't trust me because of tonight."

"So you are going to get the Mark next week?"

"Not willingly," Malfoy ground out.

"You know, I could get those wounds healed in about a second."

"I don't need your charity. Besides, it was the Crucio curse, and you won't know how to heal that."

Harry rolled his eyes. But then again, he wouldn't wish for Malfoy to heal him if he were in this situation.

Oh well. Harry conspicuously pointed his wand at Malfoy and whispered a spell that Hermione had taught him not two days ago to help heal the after-effects of the Crucio curse.

Malfoy instantly started to look a bit healthier.

"You know, you really are a sneaky bastard," said Malfoy.

"What?" asked Harry, feigning innocence.

"Oh, shut up," Malfoy climbed to his feet and looked at Harry. "Thanks, though."

There was a very awkward silence.

"I'll be going now," said Harry.

"Yeah."

They both left the room in silence, having come to some unspoken agreement to never _ever_ mention this meeting or its contents to anyone.

The next day Malfoy and Harry acted as if nothing happened.

In fact, they didn't even act. They _convinced_ themselves nothing happened.

Everything was normal.

That night Harry once again stole out to the room with the Mirror of Erised, and spent another sleepless night being with his parents.

It continued in this was for three days. Harry was getting no sleep, and Hermione and Ron became worried. They assumed that Harry was having his Voldemort dreams and started to ask questions.

Harry didn't want to share this with them, though. For some unexplainable reason, he did not want his best friends knowing about the Mirror. He remembered when he showed Ron the Mirror of Erised in the first year, and how he did not see Harry's parents, but his own deepest desire, and Ron couldn't stay away. Just like Harry, Ron wanted to sit in front of the mirror for hours.

_I'm probably just being selfish_, thought Harry.

He went back again on the fourth night, to look at his parents.

It was some while after unclothing the mirror and seating himself down in front of it that he heard a cough in the shadows behind him.

He turned around and glared at the shadows, trying to see who could be there.

Cough, cough, hack, hack, wheeze.

"Alright -- (cough)-- I can't -- (wheeze) -- take it anymore!" From behind a desk Malfoy stumbled out, coughing and wiping dust off his sleeves.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry, angrily.

"No, -- (cough) -- the better question is: What is the Dark Lord's prime target doing sneaking out -- (cough) -- for almost four days now, just to sit in front of a mirror the whole night?"

"You've been watching me?"

"Yeah, and from what I've seen, you've got one heck of an ego, Potter."

"You don't even know what this is. And you still haven't fully answered my question. Why have you been watching me?"

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you why I am here, and you settle my curiosity by telling me what the heck you're doing."

"Okay...deal."

"I've been here watching you because I wanted to know why you were in this room that night that I and my father were here."

"Why didn't you just ask me?"

"One, because there is a reason I'm in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and two, you probably wouldn't have answered my question. Now you have to answer it."

"You wouldn't care."

"Look, Potter, we made a deal."

"I'm looking in a mirror."

Draco looked skeptical and rather peeved.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. This is a mirror that shows a person's deepest desire."

"And?"

"And it is the only way I can see my parents and me in the same place."

"I don't follow. I thought your parents were dead, Potter."

Harry winced. Malfoy was still the same Malfoy. "Think. Hard. Deepest desires... my family. Get it?"

Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes."

"And you've been coming here night after night staring in the mirror because it shows your parents and family with you, as you are now, correct?"

"Yes."

"That's rather obsessive."

"You wouldn't understand," Harry snapped back, "All I have ever wanted was a family. Sure, every summer I go home to my Aunt's house, but they are not family. I've just got a well-protected house with three of the biggest muggles on the face of the planet. Do you know what they did to me after the first year?" Harry was getting rather agitated, and Malfoy took a step back in surprise at the sudden out burst and pouring of emotion, "They locked me in my room, locked away my wand, broom and books, put bars on my window -- _bars_, and treated me like slave labor. How about after fifth year? Did they care that I was almost killed? That I was tortured beyond all belief? That I was probably clinically depressed that whole summer? Family is people who love and care about you, and I don't have that. But you just don't understand."

"Me? Not _understand_?" it was Malfoy's turn to become angry, "How can you say that? You've seen my father, the way he treats me. He doesn't care a fig if I dropped dead this moment or turned into a beetle. In fact, he would probably step on me himself if I didturn into a beetle. All he cares about is if I 'live up to the Malfoy name' or not. I don't even _want_ to become a Death Eater. You say a family is people who love and care about you. You _do_ have that. You have friends. You have families of friends. Heck, the whole bloody world loves you!"

"You don't want to become a Death Eater?"

Suddenly the boys heard a voice coming closer.

"Quick, Malfoy, under here!" Harry motioned Malfoy to go under the invisibility cloak with him to hide. Malfoy did as instructed.

They moved towards the wall and tried to make as little noise as possible.

Filch came into the room holding his lantern high.

He looked about and growled a bit, but then turned and left.

Harry and Malfoy were holding their breaths.

Finally, Harry pulled the cloak off of them.

"Filch is loosing his touch," commented Malfoy.

"He hasn't had much sneaking around since the school has brought in the Aurors," said Harry.

"Definitely."

"Look, I'm being selfish" said Harry. "I know I'm not the only one in the world who has lost his parents. I just want some sort of family, I guess, very badly right now."

Malfoy snickered. "Me and you, we are some piece of work."

Harry tilted his head, trying to figure out where Malfoy was going with that comment.

"We hate each other so much, but we end up here in the same room, having a civil conversation. I think we're just too tired to start fighting, but I don't know. Actually, I think I've just had an epiphany, due to how tired I am. I think you and me are very similar. You have no family, but most people love you. I have a family, but nobody loves me."

Harry didn't know what to make of Malfoy's "epiphany." So he didn't say anything.

Malfoy walked and stood in front of the mirror. "Ha!" he said, looking at his reflection, "We even have the same deepest desire. Would you look at this. The mirror shows me with my family around me, and my father is smiling proudly at me. Proof that I am right."

"I never argued with you," said Harry darkly.

"Ah, but I can see you disagree with me." Malfoy seemed to be energized with his new idea. "Okay, go ahead and tell me how we are not alike."

Harry glared at Malfoy, not liking this sudden realization he was having. "Simple. You have light blond hair, I have dark black hair."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's just shallow. Come on, think of something meaningful."

"I think you just want to get in an argument."

"No. I'm challenging you. Think of something that ruins my argument. Go on."

"Fine. I've got one. You are not expected to save the world. Ooh, here's another one. You don't have a crazed homicidal maniac obsessed with killing you. How about this one: your very life does not put your friends in danger."

"I have got parallels to all your rants. One, I _am_ expected to become a Death Eater and help win the war, so in a way I am expected to save the world, from muggles. Two, my father is a crazed homicidal maniac, and he _will_ want to kill me when I don't show up next Tuesday. And three, I don't have any friends, so my life _could_ put them in danger, I just don't have proof."

"So you are not going to become a Death Eater?"

"You're catching on, Potter, that's another similarity. We both don't want to become Death Eaters."

"Cut that out," said Harry irritably, "Answer my question. Do you support Voldemort?"

There was silence. Malfoy seemed slightly surprised to hear the name Voldemort.

"Why should I tell you?" Malfoy asked arrogantly. The mood change between the momentarily excited Malfoy to the once again arrogant Malfoy was sharp, a complete turn-around.

"Because I can help you get out of becoming a Death Eater, and get on the good side to fight the war. So you won't get stuck in the middle, or on the wrong side."

For a split second Malfoy looked hopeful, but it passed.

"It wouldn't work," he said darkly, "My father is determined. You can't do anything."

"Well, would you please tell me why you don't want to become a Death Eater?" said Harry exasperatedly.

"You wouldn't understand. You see things in black and white, good and bad. Decisions are easy for you. _Don't_ become a Death Eater because the Dark Lord is your archenemy and embodies pure evil. _Do_ join Dumbledore and the Aurors because you need to avenge your parents. Every decision is easy for you. But me, I have a family who has had a long line of being involved with all sorts of Dark Arts. In fact, I think the last person who was opposed to the Dark Arts leader at that time was disowned and killed by his own family. I can't just 'break away.' And if I do-- _if_-- then I will probably have to kill some of my own family members. It's not as easy as 'just join the other side,' Potter."

"Oh," said Harry profoundly.

"And the only reason I don't want to become a Death Eater is because I don't want to be a slave to someone. I saw the other Death Eaters at that ceremony. They tremble at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. They cowered at his presence. They accept his beatings and thrashings like guilty dogs. Heck, they even call him _Master_. It's revolting. You don't know what it's like until you've been there."

"Um, Malfoy?" interrupted Harry, "I have."

"What?"

"I have been there. Remember? Fourth year? Voldemort was resurrected? Cedric died? Any of this ring a bell?"

"Yeah, sure. I meant in general, not just you. _Not many people_ can believe it until they have been there. Better?"

"Yeah, whatever. Go on."

"With what?"

"Why you don't want to be a Death Eater. You were saying that they were revolting."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to be my own person. Have my own will. And even though I do not agree with letting all the muggles mix with us, as some people on your side want, I do not think killing off every wizard who has muggle blood in him is a good idea. So while I may not agree with Dumbledore's side, I disagree more with the Dark Lord's side, so the only option would be against the Dark Lord. I think it's a good idea, making the wizarding race clean and pure, but it just can't be done. If he wanted to start his own little 'Pure Wizards Only Club,' I wouldn't object, but the whole 'let me-- I mean us-- take over the world' sort of thing, it just doesn't make sense. You can't kill all the wizards with muggle blood. It's gross and wouldn't effectively 'cleanse' the race."

Harry noticed that Malfoy seemed to once again be talking more to himself than to Harry.

"I mean, the man's a walking oxymoron," Malfoy went on, "He yells at his followers to kill the mudbloods, but he himself has muggle blood in him. His own mother, I think. _Neville_ deserves more of a life than he does, according to his doctrine. I mean, I just don't want to be in that situation. Ever. Once is enough for me. All the cemeteries and blood and darkness and torture-- But I guess you already know all about that." Malfoy gave Harry a wry smile. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

"Say, just how many times _have_ you come face to face with the Dark Lord?"

"Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched. "Yes, who else?"

"Um, I think five times. But the second time it was sort of half his face, and the third time it was a past face, and the fourth time it was to re-create his face, and the fifth time, well, the face just starts getting uglier and uglier."

"How can you joke about that? Seeing just a glimpse of him was creepy enough. How is that funny?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm developing a twisted sense of humor."

Malfoy slipped into thinking and the room was quiet for several minutes.

"Alright, Potter," he started out fiercely, after gathering his thoughts, "Listen to me."

Harry was surprised yet again by his sudden change of demeanor.

"I don't want to repeating another word of any of our conversations, rants, whatever that we have in this room, out of this room. Everything we say here stays here. Got it?"

"Uh, sure."

"Good."

There was silence.

"And?" prompted Harry, after a while.

"I'm going to kill myself for what I'm about to ask," muttered Malfoy. And then, as if he was gathering his courage, he said, "You know, it's not really just because I wanted to know what you were doing as to why I followed you in here. And I've been meaning to ask you for some time now," he suddenly became very interested in his feet, "Willyouhelpmejoinyourside? I mean," he hurriedly went on, "Not because I agree with what you're fighting for, but because I'll do anything not to become a slave to that _snake_."

Harry grinned. Oh, he heard Malfoy clearly, all right. But this was just too good to pass up.

"I don't think I quite heard you right, Malfoy, what was that you said?"

"I said," ground out Malfoy, with his teeth clenched, "I need your help."

"That's what I thought. How do I know you are not some secret spy, or something?"

Malfoy looked surprised, as if he didn't think that Harry would not say yes immediately. "I-- I--, I guess you don't know." The boy looked helpless and lost.

Harry burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, tears ran down his cheeks.

Malfoy's expression turned from helpless to relieved to very, very angry in about two seconds.

"It's just- (snort) just so- (laugh) funny!" Harry was in hysterics.

"If you value your life, Potter, you will shut up this instant."

Harry's laughs calmed down into giggles, as he tried to get a grip on himself.

"I'm so- (giggle) sorry, but, that expression on your face was so (laugh) priceless!"

Harry was once again laughing hysterically.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I come to you for help, and this is what I get. A laughing lunatic!" In truth, Malfoy was relieved that Harry was laughing instead of flat out saying no, but his pride was pretty badly hurt, after first going to Harry for _help_, of all things, and then getting laughed at.

Harry calmed down again. "Look, Malfoy, I've got to tell you, (chuckle) I'm carrying a sneak-o-scope in my pocket, and it hasn't gone off once tonight. Of course I'll help you not to become a Death Eater. I just wanted to give you an answer you didn't expect. "

"That was stupid." Malfoy was understandably bitter. "And why are you carrying a sneak-o-scope in your pajamas?"

Harry sobered up. "I always keep it by my bed."

"You are paranoid."

"No, I just have a psycho snake villain trying very hard to kill me."

"You're nutty."

"Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, then we will meet here tomorrow at midnight. I'll try to think of a plan to get you out of your ceremony on Tuesday."

"Fine. And remember, mum's the word about you speaking to me."

"Got it."

Harry and Draco left the room quietly to go back to their houses and spend what was left of the night sleeping.

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	9. Plans and Pills

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

**Note:** The answer is here. (Good news for future: I will probably write a flashback for Ciara.)

Chapter 9: Plans and Pills

-----------------

The next night Harry went out to meet Malfoy. But as he was walking through the common room, he heard a voice ask, "Harry Potter, just where do you think you are going?"

Harry turned around and was faced with a very angry Ginny Weasley.

"Um, Ginny, hi, I was just, uh, going to get a midnight snack."

"Yeah, right. Is that what you did last night?"

"You were watching me?"

"Yes, for three nights now."

"Is it 'Spy on Harry Potter' week or something? Why is everybody poking their nose into my business?"

"Because, people are staying up night after night to protect you and you are purposely sneaking out. There are Aurors outside this house, at the entrance, and positioned throughout the castle. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Now Ginny, would you please go back to your room?"

"Oh, no, I know what you're trying to do, get rid of me and then sneak out. Well I--" a very strange look passed over her face, and then, she smiled, a rather evil smile, Harry thought. "Actually," Ginny yawned, "I'm kind of sleepy. I think I will go back to bed. Good night, Harry."

Ginny flounced back up the stairs.

Harry was slightly unnerved by her exit, but he didn't want to keep Malfoy waiting in the room and then have less time to think of an idea and therefore less time to sleep afterwards, so Harry hurried off.

He slipped the invisibility cloak over him and sneaked out through the corridors, back to the mirror room.

Sure enough, the other boy was there before him, sitting at a desk.

Harry slipped the cloak off.

"You know, Potter, it really is quite creepy watching a head suddenly appear from thin air," greeted Malfoy.

"Nice to see you too. How do you get here, anyway?"

"I used a spell."

"What spell?"

"A shadows spell. It makes you mostly invisible. Works fine."

"I'll have to try that one day."

"So, down to business. Do you have a plan?"

"Maybe."

There was silence as Harry tried to gather his thoughts.

"Mind telling me what it is?" asked Malfoy.

"How would you feel about being a spy?"

"No," said Malfoy flatly.

"Why not?"

"I thought we went over this. I don't even want to _appear_ to be part of that cowardly group."

"Now just one minute!" shouted a female voice.

Harry and Malfoy spun around and glared at the intruder.

"Ginny!" shouted Harry, "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Trying to figure out where you have been going," said Ginny angrily.

"My goodness, Potter, everyone wants to spy on you. Quite the new mystery, aren't we?"

"And now I find out!" continued Ginny, "You've been undermining everything we have worked for by meeting with this double-dealing Death Eater!"

"That's not fair."

"Oh yes it is! How can you turn against us like this? I thought you were the 'Great Harry Potter', come to save us all. Obviously not. Just where do your loyalties lie?"

"What are you saying?" asked Harry coldly, "That I've forgotten who I'm fighting? That I would walk straight into the enemies' hands? That I would forget what my parents died for?"

The room was deathly still, echoing with Harry's words. Ginny looked rather shocked at his tone of voice. Malfoy was still sitting quietly at the desk.

"You know, you could use that tone of voice and freeze the enemy to death," said Malfoy sarcastically after a moment.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," said Ginny.

"Look, Ginny, it is not was it seems. Malfoy does not want to become a Death Eater. He doesn't even support Voldemort." Ginny and Malfoy flinched. "He wants to become good, he wants--"

"Stop that!" said Malfoy. "I don't want to 'become good', 'join the light side', 'be a hero', or any of that crap. I just don't support the Dark Lord and don't want to get caught in the middle."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. Point is, Ginny, that Malfoy is not a Death Eater and will help us fight."

"How do you know he is telling the truth?"

"I just do."

"Oh? 'You just do'," she said mockingly. "That's not good enough. Besides, he'll do more harm than good on our side."

Malfoy looked slightly hurt.

"Ginny, he will try his best and I know he will help."

"We've already got a Slytherin on our side and he's already a pain."

"Malfoy will be nothing like Snape."

"Hello?" said Malfoy irritability, "Honestly, I can hear you. And you do know that Snape is a spy for the Dark Lord."

"He still calls He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the 'Dark Lord'," pointed out Ginny, ignoring Malfoy.

"And I call him Voldemort. So what? Call him the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Tom Riddle for all I care, just don't call him 'Master'."

Ginny did not look convinced.

Harry gave and exasperated sigh. "What can I do to convince you?"

"Maybe if Ms. Weasley hears it from my mouth, it will make a difference." Dumbledore stepped out from under a shadow in the corner. Ginny jumped a mile.

"Professor? What are you doing here?" asked Harry.

"I had gotten word that the Mirror of Erised was being used, and so--"

"Wait, let me guess," interrupted Harry, "And so you came here to watch me and find out what I was doing, and you have been watching me for several nights now."

"Potter is the new mystery. Everyone wants to spy on him," explained Malfoy to Dumbledore.

"No. Not any more," said Harry, determined. He raised his voice, "If there is anyone, and I mean _anyone_ in this room or who can hear me now, please come out so I can see you."

A few seconds passed in silence, then a shuffle of feet.

An Auror stepped into the room from the hallway.

Harry groaned and shook his head.

"I was only following Dumbledore," he said, "And now may I please continue my job?"

"Go ahead, Simon," answered Dumbledore.

The Auror muttered something to himself and stepped back outside the door.

"This is humiliating," sighed Harry.

"What about me?" asked Malfoy, "This is embarrassing for me, too. I'm not even in your little Auror-good-side clique. I'm not supposed to be associating with all of you, according to my father."

"I'm just confused," put in Ginny.

"Well, I can help clear things up a bit," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Mr. Malfoy, as I understand, you do not want to be associated in any way with Voldemort, and want to join our side. I think I can make it possible."

"Wait, just wait," said Ginny, "How do we know he is not trying to join our side so he can report information back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? He hasn't done anything to gain our trust."

Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "Harry says he can join. He has my full support."

"How does that make any sense? That's crazy." Ginny was at a loss. "Doesn't anybody find it strange? Isn't anybody worried?"

She looked around helplessly. Harry shrugged his shoulders in a "beat's me" sort of way. Malfoy smiled.

Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is so stupid. Completely loony. 'If Harry says he's all right'. What does that _mean_?"

"Mr. Potter posses an unusual amount of power within him, and can use that to sense other people's power and its intentions. Harry gets headaches from Voldemort, because Voldemort holds a great wealth of power and uses it for evil purposes. Even in Voldemort was to promote world peace with that power, Harry would still be able to tell if he was good or bad, because of what his ulterior motivations would be."

"Yeah," said Ginny dryly, "And Professor Trelawney can predict a birth. But if you guys want to get yourselves betrayed or killed, that's just fine with me!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, then, now that we have Ms. Weasley's consent, let's get on with business."

Ginny scowled at Malfoy.

"Professor, are you going to help?" asked Harry.

"As much as I can. But this is a serious decision for Mr. Malfoy." Addressing Malfoy he said, "Do you understand that this decision will dominate the rest of your life?"

"Yes," answered Malfoy.

"Do you understand that we will be trusting you and depending on you?"

"Yes."

"Do you realize that you will never be able to have strong family ties as long as they are supporting Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"And do you understand that you may be called upon to wage war against your own family and old friends?"

Malfoy hesitated, and with good reason. These were serious commitments, and he knew that he will be making powerful enemies that will do anything to stop him. But as he thought of the Death Eaters he saw, even the more "respected" ones by the Dark Lord, he knew that he could never stand to be known as one of them. And he thought about the killing of people he knew to be innocent, and also knew that he could never do that. He wanted to be remembered as someone who had done something good with his life, not hated and scorned upon.

And he answered, "Yes."

"Excellent. Now, I think I have an idea to break up this ceremony you must go to. But I need to know, do you want to make your change of sides known publicly, or do you want to be in secret, and maybe an informer for us?"

"I-- I don't know. I don't want to even come near another Death Eater ceremony, but if I am publicly against the Dark Lord, I will be in danger."

"Why don't you just lay low until after graduation?" suggested Ginny, getting into the idea.

"And how would I avoid getting the Dark Mark?"

"Oh, yeah." Ginny was stuck.

"Professor, can't you do anything to persuade Lucius Malfoy so Draco won't have to get the Dark Mark?"

Several eyebrows went up at the mention of Malfoy's first name said by Harry.

"I can talk to Snape about it, and maybe he will discuss it with Lucius. But I think the best thing right now is for all of us to go back to bed. Harry, Ginny, will you two give Mr. Malfoy and I some privacy?"

Ginny and Harry nodded their heads and left quietly, leaving Malfoy with Dumbledore, and sneaked back under Harry's cloak.

Once in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny and Harry sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"Harry," said Ginny, "I'm sorry about creeping up on you."

"That's okay, just don't do it anymore," answered Harry, yawning.

"So is Malfoy really trying to be good?"

"He wants to, very badly."

"It's was nice of you to stand up for him."

"He let me. I think he is trying to be more civil to me, because he wants to be on our side."

"Do you think Dumbledore's plan will work?"

"I have complete faith in him. I'm rather tired, Ginny, so I'm going to go up to bed. Goodnight."

"G'night."

Harry walked up to his room and fell asleep the moment his head hit his pillow.

Dumbledore's plan did work, in fact. He got Snape to talk to Lucius, saying that Draco should really finish his education before getting the Dark Mark.

Draco started taking lessons from the Aurors along with Harry.

Ginny also got to take the Auror class, after much pleading to Dumbledore.

Until graduation, Harry and Draco "kept up appearances" and were as nasty as ever to each other during school, in public.

Draco and Ginny ended up meeting together in private, first as friends, then as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Harry suspected something going on between the two, but never asked a question.

War broke out about six months after graduation, and battles raged through out Europe. Voldemort was slowly expanding his reign of terror to Asia and America.

Both Harry and Draco were made Generals, commanding whole armies together.

Ginny worked as a doctor, heading up her own hospital.

Ron and Hermione stayed as an auror team behind the front lines, figuring out codes, eavesdropping, getting families out of areas that could be dangerous.

Draco and Ginny announced their marriage, much to the surprise of the Weasley's and Hermione. The couple married later that year.

And then, suddenly, that next year Voldemort started taking hostages.

Seamus was one of the first. Then Snape. More and more people were being captured.

And left behind on the victim's door, wall, or what ever was handy, was always a big scar-shaped mark, made with blood.

Harry became depressed and even more closed off. He kept talking to Dumbledore and the other leaders, trying to convince them to let him go after Voldemort.

But they would not let him.

Then, one dark night, the weather suitable for the situation, Harry received news that Sirius was taken hostage.

He broke down and didn't come out of his room for days.

People first knocked on his door, then banged, then finally used magic to open the lock. But Harry kept throwing them out, literally. A few well chosen words and the unwanted visitor for him or herself a few kilometers from the house.

Finally Draco snuck in quietly in the middle of the night and tied Harry's hands to his sides and gagged him.

It was morning and Harry awoke.

"Mrrph," said Harry, first dazed, then infuriated.

"Morning," answered Draco pleasantly.

"Mrrff nr mumif nuh."

"Ah ah ah, can't remove the sock until you agree to cooperate."

"Nuh mur muff nr uph!"

"I'll remove the sock, if you agree to eat this lovely soup I made you and not cast any spells on me."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I need you word, Harry. I don't want to end up in the ministry's bathroom again."

"Mrr-unph." That was Harry's word, Draco could tell.

Draco pulled the sock out of Harry's mouth.

"Thanks," said Harry dryly.

"No problem." Draco was still pleasant.

"Do you guys really end up in the Ministry's bathroom?"

"Yeah, and it's really pissing the Ministry off, you know."

"Sorry. I just don't want to be around anyone right now."

"Harry, if you want you godfather back, we've got to be together, fighting together."

"Easy for you to say. Being around people is painful, Draco, knowing that my very presence will most likely put them in danger and can possibly kill them."

"Staying by yourself won't help anyone either."

"I just don't know what to do, though."

"Well, for one thing, you can comfort Ron and Hermione. They are worried sick, you know."

"I don't want to be around them."

"Harry, they are your closest friends. You're giving them the cold shoulder."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! They might not be my favorite people, but it's actually driving me nuts to see you shoving them in the corner."

"I can't do anything else."

"What?"

"I mean, I can't be around them because they are my friends."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"You wouldn't know. Ron and Hermione are like brother and sister. I love them so much, and therefore I cannot put them in danger. I don't want anything bad happening to them, Draco. If something were to happen, I don't know what I would do."

"And what about me?" asked Draco, jokingly.

Harry gave a small smile. "I know you can take care of yourself, and I know that Voldemort won't want you. He doesn't know we're close friends."

"Ron and Hermione can take care of themselves, too."

"It's just not the same. I'm serious, Draco, I've known them for over seven years and I can't bring myself to put them in danger."

Harry was becoming more and more agitated.

"Come on, Harry," coxed Draco, "Eat some of this soup. You haven't had any food for days now, and getting upset will not help."

"I don't want soup I just want--"

"Yes?"

"I don't know." Harry looked helpless. "I want to get my godfather back. I want to get all the hostages back. I want to destroy Voldemort. But most of all, I just want to be gone. Disappear. Leave the wizarding world for good."

"Do you mean that?"

"I-- Well-- Yes. I do mean it. I think. It's not that I don't love my friends, but I am just so tired of the strain all this causes me." A tiny tear slid down Harry's face. "The whole world expects me to save them from a madman. To be their savior. But, I-- I just don't think-- Draco, I can't do it." Harry looked frightened at his realization. "What if I can't? What will happen? Who will save everyone?"

Frankly, Draco was frightened to death by Harry's talk, but he didn't let it show, trying to look brave.

"Harry, you can do it. Have no fear."

"There are so many questions, that no one can seem to answer. Why, why does Voldemort want to kill me? What have I done? And why does everyone expect me to save them? Why me? I need to leave this world."

Harry broke down and sobbed silently to himself.

Draco was taken aback and was at a loss of words, until he thought of something. Choosing his words carefully, he said:

"Harry, I know of a woman, in Scotland, I think, who makes a potion that will eliminate all magic inside a person."

Harry looked up at Draco with eyes wide in disbelief.

Draco went on. "My father threatened to send me there once, and so I do not know where exactly she is. But I think, mind you, I don't remember clearly, I think her name was Ciara. She lives in a muggle village. Not many people know of her, but she can make it possible for you to completely leave this world."

"Can it be true?"

"My father could have been pulling my leg, but I don't think he's that creative."

Harry gazed at the wall, thoughts far away.

"But you didn't hear that from me."

Harry made no reply.

"Come on Harry, stop thinking these awful thoughts. Sirius will come back. I promise. I know it."

Still it was silent.

"How about this soup I made you? It's good."

"Sure," said Harry finally, in a blank voice. "Yes, that's what I'll do."

"Eat soup?"

"Um, what? Yeah, okay."

"Good. You feel better in no time."

Draco untied Harry's bonds tied around his arms, and handed the bowl to Harry, making sure he ate every bit (it had pepper up potion in it) and then made sure that his friend was safely in bed and asleep before leaving quietly.

----(end flashback)----

James thought about those pills he had gotten from Ciara. He had searched secretly in muggle phone books for months to find her, and then sought her out after the battle with Voldemort.

She, luckily, didn't recognize him as someone famous. In fact, she never asked for his name, and Harry never volunteered it.

The pills were ready in two days, during which Harry stayed at Ciara's house. The pills were tailored to Harry, made it so they repressed his power, and made magic almost impossible.

That was in theory.

She did say that it would be hard for the pills to work because of Harry's power level. Harry would have to keep his temper in check and take the pills regularly for them to work well enough.

To make up for the less magic protection, she added a special part to the pills. She made them so that not only did the pills hide James' powers, but also so that his hair would always cover his scar perfectly. No amount of gel, or haircuts, or clips could keep the hair from staying stubbornly over the scar.

James had paid a fortune for those pills, but it was worth it. The jar kept refilling, and never left his side.

James thought back to his friend Draco.

He turned so caring, and so compassionate. If anyone ever needed to be rescued, Draco was always the one to burst into the house, or fight off the attacker, and be the savior of the person in danger. Draco could still put on his "proud Malfoy" expression and attitude and scare people half to death, but he didn't do it often. He really wanted to become a better person and change his reputation.

Much of the change was most likely Ginny's influence. They were so close, even right at first, and were obviously in love. They harbored a deep care and understanding for each other.

And James wished that Draco had never been taken hostage. People would never get to know the true Draco. He had become such a good friend of James', and James knew that much of his well being was based on Draco's care for him, all those nights that he had made Harry dinner, and made sure that he got enough sleep, and told him that everything was going to be all right.

He was a true friend, and it was James' only regret that he couldn't have realized that before the sixth year.

James' thoughts turned to Peter, and how many nights he, too, had stayed up to take care of James.

_Peter is one in a million_, thought James.

And suddenly, James knew that he couldn't lose Peter.

He must go back and apologize. He needed to explain.

-----------------

Thanks a ton to the people who reviewed! A list of thank-you's will go out next chapter.

Love to all, Adah


	10. Shopping and Apologies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

Chapter 10: Shopping and Apologies

----------------

Ron and Hermione packed their luggage and things, ready to leave. Today, Thursday, was their last day with the Bollis's.

Truth be told, it was a relief to Hermione to be going back home. She missed her kids and worried about them. And it wasn't that the Bollis's weren't nice, far from it, but she just couldn't shake the thought that Ginny didn't really love Daniel.

She knew it was an awful thing to think, but Daniel just looked so much like Draco, and, well, Ginny never really talked _about_ Daniel, not about his personality and things. Sure, she talked _of_ him, but that wasn't the same.

And there was another thing.

This town was giving her the chills. Something about reminded her of Harry. The way it smelled, of mint and soap. And the way she felt walking around, the air still holding a hint of refreshing cold, even though it was summertime.

Yes, all in all, she was happy to be leaving Canada.

"Ron, dear," Hermione called from the bathroom, while putting on her earrings, "Are you almost packed?"

"Yeah," Ron called back, "Just trying to close this suitcase."

Hermione could hear Ron grunting, attempting to force the suitcase closed.

"Oh, honestly," she said, walking out of the bathroom. "Here, let me do it." She pulled out her wand. "_Claudes_. There. See? It's no problem."

Ron huffed.

"Quit moping and finish up. We are going shopping in the wizarding district before we go, and I don't want to be short on time."

Ron smiled. "Yes, dear. Of course, I wouldn't _dare_ to try and interfere with yours and Ginny's shopping time."

"Oh, stop."

A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione had their things packed, lined up next to the door, ready to leave with the five o'clock portkey.

"Well, won't this be a fun outing?" said Mrs. Bollis.

Mr. and Mrs. Bollis along with Ginny and Daniel were getting up from the couch where it looked liked they were reading the morning paper.

"Sorry we took a while," said Hermione.

"No problem at all, dear."

The group trouped outside into the warm air and began walking, Ron and Mr. Bollis walking and talking together, then Mrs. Bollis and her son, and Hermione and Ginny brought up the rear.

"I can't believe you guys are leaving already," commented Ginny.

"Well, it was only a five day trip. I can't stay away from teaching for very long."

"Who's substituting for you?"

"Lupin."

"Good for him!"

"Yeah, it's his chance to prove everybody wrong."

"So how are Jack and Emily?"

"Just fine, acting just like the kids they are, most the time."

"Still bickering?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh yes. That certainly hasn't gone away!"

"You know, Hermione," said Ginny, "You're just going to love Harrington Square. They have really nice robe shops. They have a Falkmur's and a Cleaton."

"Both?"

Falkmur's and Cleaton were popular wizarding clothing stores, and Harrington Square was the main wizarding center in Calgary.

"Yeah, both of them. We are going to have so much fun!"

Ron apparently overheard his sister and called back to them, "Ginny, dear, you can have as much fun as you wish, but let's not pick the stores clean of all their products. That goes for you too, Hermione, love."

Ginny and Hermione just laughed in response.

Within no time, the group was walking through Harrington Square. Ginny and Daniel were showing Ron and Hermione the sights, and like good guests, they were oohing and ahhing to the things Ginny and Daniel pointed out.

"And that's North America's largest broom store," said Daniel proudly. "It's like a warehouse in there! You can find any broom, even spare parts to old and out-dated brooms."

Ron goggled at the display window. Little animated figures were zooming around on brooms, playing a small quiddich game.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I must agree with you, Hermione," said Ginny. "I don't see what the fascination is either."

"But you like quiddich!" said Daniel.

"Oh sure, I _like_ it all right, but I don't plaster my face to the display window of any fancy broom store." She gestured towards her brother, who was still staring intently.

The group decided to split up to shop on their own. Daniel and Ron looked as if they weren't budging from the broom store, and Mr. and Mrs. Bollis decided to sit down at the nearest cafe and people watch. Which left Ginny and Hermione open to all the shopping they wanted to do at the department stores.

A few hours later, Ginny and Hermione returned, their arms heavy with bags.

Ron and Daniel were sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Bollis at the cafe.

"My goodness," said Mr. Bollis, "You girls certainly did some shopping."

"And just how are we going to get this home?" asked Ron. "After we take the portkey, we have to walk quite a bit to get back to my mother's house, and then we have to go by Floo powder with the kids to get back home."

"You're being way to sensible, Ron, and I don't like it," responded Hermione. "I'll manage."

Ron snickered.

"Be quiet! I needed new robes anyway. Besides, Ginny will help me put a shrinking charm on it, won't you?"

"Definitely," answered Ginny.

Ron sighed, "Okay, if you say so."

"I do."

Daniel and Ginny had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing at Ron and Hermione's playful arguing.

"Well, shall we go?" asked Mr. Bollis, standing up.

"That would be nice," said Ginny, "Any longer and Ron might convince Hermione to return that nice blue robe she got."

"That would never happen!" said Hermione.

Everyone got up and grabbed their things (Ron and Daniel had each bought a small broom servicing kit), Mr. Bollis paid the waitress, and they were off, headed back to the Bollis's house.

It was about four o'clock and Ron and Hermione had a good hour until their portkey left, so the walk back to the house was an easy, slow one.

As they were walking down a street, Hermione noticed that they were across from Peter's Bakery, and then she remembered about Jack and Emily.

"Ron!" she whispered to him, "I forgot to pick up something for the kids."

"Oh dear, that can't be good."

"No, it really isn't. But there is a really good bakery across the street, and you know them, they will be delighted to get anything sweet, and thrilled if it is a muggle sweet from Canada."

"You're right."

"So I'll just run over there really quickly. You guys just stay here."

"Sure thing," answered Ron.

Then Hermione addressed everyone else, informing them that she would be back in two minutes.

Hermione crossed the street and entered the bakery, the door giving a tiny jingle of bells, announcing her presence.

Hermione looked through the glass and the pastries lined up inside.

"So, how can I help you?" asked the same man who had given her the bread the other night. He was walking out from the back, again wiping flour from his hands onto his apron. He seemed to be forever cooking.

"Um, I'm looking for some pastries to bring back home. How are these 'Canadian Creams'?"

"Oh, those are a specialty. They are my version of a Boston Cream pastry."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You know, Boston Creams, with chocolate on top and a cream filling?"

Hermione looked blank.

"Well, anyway, these have a cream filling, but with maple sugar on the top."

"Sounds interesting."

"They're good, I promise you."

"Okay, I'll take two of those, and two of those red maple-leaf shaped cookies."

Peter swiftly turned around. "Um, so sorry, but it seems as if my éclairs are burning. I'll get someone else to ring you up." The man went dashing back into the kitchen, and Hermione could hear Peter scolding someone.

Hermione could also hear someone inside speaking. "Okay, okay, I'll take care of the customer; you just save the éclairs, Peter. Emma, Jacob, I think you guys should stay far away from the oven from now on."

Hermione didn't know why, but that voice seemed to give her the strangest sense of deja vu.

Little did Hermione know that the group across the street would be waiting a lot longer than two minutes for her.

----------------

James took a deep breath. He once again rehearsed the well-prepared speech in his head. Then he held his breath and entered Peter's Bakery. He was there to apologize and explain.

It was Thursday afternoon, and, like he had promised, James was there to help Peter cook éclairs. James really hadn't spoken to Peter since Monday, but he had been constantly thinking of the proper apology. And James was rehearsing a way to explain himself. "Hi, I'm sorry, oh, and I'm a wizard" didn't really cut it.

James looked around. Peter was at the counter, doing paperwork.

"Um, hi," said James.

Peter grunted in response.

"Look," began James, "I'm sorry for the way I acted. Really, it isn't that I don't trust you. I mean, you are like a brother to me. It's just that-- I think--" James stopped short. Peter slowly raised his head, looking at the silent James.

James gathered his courage once again. _C'mon_, he urged himself, _Peter is your best friend. You can't lose him. He deserves to know the truth_.

"You see," continued James, "I think I am more afraid to admit my past to _myself_, let alone anyone else. It's not you, Peter, it's me. And, well, I'm sorry, and I am prepared to explain myself because I think you deserve to know."

Peter looked surprised at this pouring of emotion from James. In fact, he looked rather like he did not know what to do."

"Er, well, it's okay," said Peter, "I meant to apologize. I was being rather harsh, and your past is your past, and you shouldn't have to explain yourself if you don't want to. It's just that so many strange things have been happening, and they all seem to revolve around you. I guess I just was startled by the realization that I might not know you as well as I think I do."

"So you don't mind if I prefer not to tell you about my past?" asked James hopefully.

"Well, I would like to know, just because you have now made it very mysterious," Peter gave a small smile, "But I understand if you don't want to."

James was at a loss. On the one hand, he was thrilled that he didn't have to explain anything to Peter, but on the other hand, James had been prepared to tell his friend the truth, and he realized that he would have to explain things to Peter at some time or other. He couldn't avoid it forever.

"I'll tell you at one point, really, I will," answered James, "But, would you mind if--"

"If you put it off a bit longer?" finished Peter. He laughed. "No, I wouldn't mind, I'm just happy that we are on speaking terms. You know, you're brutal in an argument, James. It's awful being angry at you. You use that certain tone of voice, and choose just the right words... Geez, I would hate having you as my enemy. And who would have thought that you could be so good at being cold and angry?"

James laughed good-naturedly. "I've had practice."

"Ah! See? More of your mysterious past pops up! Did you have some evil friend who betrayed you? Were you the spokesperson for a country that had discussions with an evil enemy? Were you--"

"A rock star!" shouted Emma, bursting though the front door of the bakery, hands held high in a pose.

Jacob and Sarah carefully walked around the posed Emma, who looked as if she could hear some imaginary applause.

"Ba nuh nuh, ba nuh na na na nuhh!" sang Emma, playing an invisible guitar.

"What's with her?" asked Peter.

"Car. Radio. Song," explained Sarah.

"She listens to the worst music. All that noise and drums..." said Jacob.

Emma came over and whacked Jacob on the arm. "My music isn't bad! It's _wonderful_. And I happen to like it."

Emma then continued to dance around the room, singing.

"So, how are you, James?" asked Sarah.

"Fine."

"Ready to make some éclairs?"

"Sure." Apparently Peter had not told Sarah about the argument, which was fine by James.

Emma stopped dancing around and went into the kitchen with the others.

"I can't believe we're making éclairs _again_," moaned Sarah. "It was pretty bad last time."

"No, it will be lots and lots of fun!" said Emma.

"'Fun' meaning chocolate everywhere, right?" asked Jacob warily.

"Yes!" said Emma, way to excited about it, James thought.

"Well, shall we?" asked Peter, with the ingredients pulled out.

One hour later, the kitchen resembled the way it looked on that earlier Sunday, namely, chocolate and flour everywhere. Peter was getting a bit flustered. His bakery was open on weekdays and Saturdays, and so not only did he have to look after Emma and Jacob, who were trying vainly to make éclairs, but also take care of customers.

In fact, Peter was helping someone right now.

"You know," said Emma, as she was attempting to pour the cream into the pastry shell, "I'm so happy we could get together and do this. I mean, I haven't seen you guys in ages! Except you, Jamesie, I just saw you on Sunday."

"Um, Emma," said Jacob, "You saw Peter and Sarah yesterday, and you live with me. So why would it be 'except James'?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "My poor Cobbie is a little slow sometimes," she explained to Sarah. Jacob held his hands up in "beat's me" kind of way.

"Emma, I don't get it either," said Sarah.

"Oh, you guys, it's easy! I see you and Peter _so_ often, that when I don't see you for a whole day, it feels like a very long time. For Jamesie, on the other hand, seeing him twice a week is a treat!"

"I can't figure out if that is a complement or an insult..." said James.

"That's wonderful," answered Emma.

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Jacob shrugged.

Peter came back into the kitchen. "So, how are the éclairs going?"

"Well, I think," reported James. "We've made about twenty, and they're just in the oven now."

"Great!"

"Yeah, I like the chocolate topping the best," said Emma.

"I hate chocolate topping," said Jacob. Emma was once again smothering Jacob with chocolate.

"Tell me again why I'm going to marry you in a few months?" asked Jacob.

"Because I'm wonderful, and smart, and beautiful, and you love me to pieces. Itty bitty pieces. And because I like chocolate sauce."

Emma and Jacob continued to "work" on the éclairs, giving James and Sarah a break. Sarah was reading a book, and James was pondering his decision he made to Peter. James now felt that he did not want to explain anything. But as he thought about it more, he realized that a lot of strange thing _had_ happened, though the events were not strange for James, who felt as if he really had had enough "strange" things happen to him for one lifetime.

Suddenly, as if to prove James' "strange things revolve around me" theory, a bizarre string of events happened that were seemingly twisted by fate.

The front door chimed, meaning Peter had to help out a customer.

Not two seconds later did the oven bell go off, signaling that the éclair pastry was done.

And at that moment, Emma lost the oven mitts.

No oven mitts meant no taking out pastries from the oven.

Which meant burnt pastry.

Emma was desperately trying to find the lost oven mitts, and Jacob was trying to work the oven. Unfortunately, he ended up raising the temperature.

That's when James and Sarah entered the scene. James yanked open the oven door and Sarah told Emma and Jacob that opening the oven would have been sufficient enough to stop the éclairs from burning.

The open oven let out the smoke from the slightly burnt éclairs, which consequently brought Peter running in.

"You guys!" he cried, "Can't I trust you for two minutes? Puff pastry is very hard to remake!"

"Um, your customer is waiting," pointed out Emma.

"I know!"

"Well?" prompted Sarah.

"Okay, okay," said James, attempting to be the peacemaker, "I'll take care of the customer, you just save the éclairs, Peter. Emma, Jacob, I think you guys should stay far away from the oven from now on."

"Thanks," said Peter, as he pulled out two oven mitts from a drawer to get the pastry with.

_Never a dull moment with these guys_, thought James.

Unfortunately for James, though, an even less dull and stranger moment was about to follow. For when James stepped out of that kitchen, a woman with bushy brown hair was standing in front of him.

----------------

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	11. Confrontations and Stomach Aches

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will they ever come face to face?

Chapter 11: Confrontation and Stomach Aches

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"So, what did you want to buy?" asked the man who had come out. He was busy rearranging the racks of pastries and sweets.

Hermione was staring at the glass counter, trying to decide if she really wanted two Canadian Creams and two red maple leaf shaped cookies.

"Um, yes, I wanted to buy--" Hermione looked at the man and stopped. Her eyes widened. It was him. No mistaking it. "Harry?" she asked.

James looked up from what he was doing. He squinted a bit, trying to figure out why this woman knew his first name.

_Crap_, he realized, _it's Hermione_. Now, it wasn't that he didn't want to see her, indeed, part of him wanted to run into her arms and explain everything. But he could not admit what he had done. How she must hate him! All the people who had died...

The two parts in him fought and struggled. _Go to Hermione_! he thought one moment. Then, in the next moment, _No, run in the other direction_! Together, the internal argument sent a very stupid message to James's brain: _Deny everything, deny, deny, deny_.

"Um, excuse me?" asked James, turning only slightly red.

"You're Harry. Don't lie to me."

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea of who you are talking about."

"But you must--"

"I know nothing," James snarled.

Hermione's face darkened and she raised her voice. "What are you talking about? You're Harry, Harry Po--"

"What is going one here?" asked Peter, coming out of the kitchen.

"I don't know. This woman is acting very strange," said James crisply.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why you--! How can you say that?"

Peter tilted his head and looked at her. "Do you know him?"

"Yes I know him! He's Harry!"

"Um, lady? That's James. James Pott--"

"I think it's time for her to go now," interrupted James, just in time to prevent his last name from being heard. He didn't want Hermione tracing him or looking him up in a phonebook.

"Wait," said Peter, "Why would you think this is someone you know?"

"He looks identical, that's why. He sounds identical, that's why. He even acts in the same way; can't tell a lie to save his life. That's _why_."

"Well, what did your Harry look like?"

Hermione reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. From one of the back pockets she pulled out a picture. "This is what he looked like."

The picture showed Ron, Hermione, and Harry together on graduation day, taken with Hermione's parent's camera, a muggle one so the picture didn't move. This way Hermione could always see Harry as the same smiling Harry.

Peter studied it. "It sure looks a lot like him, I'll grant you that, but James doesn't have glasses, or -- green is it? -- he doesn't have green eyes, and he doesn't have black hair, or a scar on his forehead."

"Just how long _have _you known 'James'?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"Ten years."

"And did he ever have a British accent?"

Peter looked at James, who was silently pleading for Peter to say no.

"I don't think so," said Peter, at last. "And could I borrow James for a moment?"

"Fine."

Peter dragged James into the doorway of the kitchen.

"Okay, you owe me big time for that one," said Peter. "What is going on, and don't lie."

"Um, well, you see," spluttered James. He reached for his pills to swallow a couple, just in case Hermione got him angry enough to accidentally cause something to explode. Peter kept looking intently at James, which caused him to choke on his last pill.

It took a while for James to stop coughing and continue. "Look, after we get Hermione to go away, I'll explain everything to you. I promise. But can we please, _please_ just get her to leave?"

Peter glared at James for a few seconds. "How did you know her name?"

"Please help me...make her go away...I'll explain later..." sang James, trying very hard to control his temper.

Peter sighed. "Fine."

"Good."

James went back out to the front, followed by Peter.

"Look, ma'm," began Peter, "I don't think you know what you're talking about. If you would just buy what you came for, and go back home, I think we would all be happier."

"I am _positive_ that this is Harry. And I can prove it," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand and prepared to put a curse on Harry that he could easily block, even without a wand. _Heck, Neville could block this one_, she thought. She raised her wand above her head.

"No! Stop! I can't block anything!" shouted James, as he pulled Peter and they both dropped to the floor.

"_Gryllia_ !" she shouted.

The curse barely grazed James' head and hit the wall, where grasshoppers suddenly appeared.

The bakery door opened and Ministry officials burst through. _Great_, thought James, _Just what I needed_.

James and Peter shakily got up from the floor.

By now Jacob, Sarah, and Emma had come out of the kitchen, and stood by Peter.

"What is going on here?" barked one of the officials.

Hermione was hysterical. "It's Harry, I know it. He just won't admit it."

"Just agree with anything I say," James quickly whispered to his friends.

Then he continued, addressing the official. "You know, this has happened to me before. I must be some famous Canadian actor or something, who was in a fantasy movie. People are always trying to tell me that I am 'Harry' and pointing sticks they claim are wands at me. I'm used to it."

Emma, Jacob, and Sarah nodded their heads, while Peter went on with James' explanation before the officials could put any words in edgewise. "Oh yes, it happens about once a week. "Wizards and Dragons" is the movie title. Good movie. You guys should watch it sometime. James, here, really does look like the main character. He's even asked for autographs sometimes!" Peter gave a small laugh.

_Man, I love these guys_, thought James, very happy that they were smart enough to do what he said to do, no questions asked.

By now, a crowd of passersby had gathered at the door.

"Better not to administer the memory charms," said one official quietly to another. "There are a lot of people here, and it sounds as if this type of thing has happened often, so it really wouldn't be of any use."

"I agree, let's just discuss this with Mrs. Weasley elsewhere."

Just then Ron pushed through the crowd and came in. Apparently he had been watching much of the argument.

"Hermione, dear, just leave it. If he wants to ignore us, so be it."

Ron put an arm around his wife and escorted the crying Hermione out. While passing James, Ron stopped.

"Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?" he asked quietly.

"That Harry Potter of yours must have died," James hissed back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It hurt James to say that, it really did. Because he knew that with that last sentence, he really did kill any friendship he, Ron, and Hermione had lingering. It took every fiber of his will not to call to the retreating figures of his once best friends, not to plead with them to come back.

James stood in the doorway of the bakery, watching the people from the other world slowly meander away. James stomach started to hurt. It twisted with a mixture of nostalgia, loneliness, and guilt.

Ron and Hermione had entered his life for the first time in ten years. And in a matter of minutes, James managed to force them out of his life again, probably for good.

James stomach gave another twist of guilt as he remembered how little he had been there for his friends the year before he left. When he had been friends with Draco, true, he did ignore Ron and Hermione a bit, but it must have been ten times that amount that year before he left.

Harry had been so intent of finding the hostages, tracing Voldemort, and hiding information, that he didn't give two thoughts to Ron and Hermione. In truth, what he was fighting so hard for _was_ Ron and Hermione, having lost everybody else, but he never stopped and talked, _really_ talked, with the two of them.

And now they were gone.

And with yet another twist of the stomach, James realized he had just referred to himself as Harry. Not as James, but as Harry. He hadn't done that in a very, very, long time. Probably not since the fight in the pub, where he mistakenly referred to himself as one of the most powerful.

"Um, James?" asked Peter, scattering James's thoughts and memories. "What was that about?"

"Look, Peter," said James slowly, "I know you want me to explain everything now," James took a deep breath, "but I would really appreciate it if I could just be alone for a while."

It looked as if Peter didn't really know what to do, so he just nodded yes.

"James, honey," put in Sarah, "I don't know what this is about, but it seems to have affected you badly. You look awful. Why don't you just go upstairs and lay down. It will be good for you."

"Yes, that would be nice."

James slowly walked up the stairs to Peter's condo, opened the door, stumbled to Peter's couch, and fell onto it.

James felt like melting into the couch and never being seen again. How mean he had been! If he could just do it again, start the day over.

A few tears slid down his cheeks. James had tried hard, but he just couldn't stop the tears from falling.

_What have I done_? he asked of himself. _How could I just push them out of my life like that? Say such cruel things? Should I have admitted to being Harry? Did I do the right thing_?

These questions only added more doubt to James' thoughts, and gave him a headache.

Weary with what had happened, James closed his eyes and gave way to sleep, dreaming of nothing.

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Poor James. How will he ever explain?

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	12. Fines and Lies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

Chapter 12: Fines and Lies

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"Can you believe the nerve of that man?" shouted Hermione in aggravation.

She and Ron were sitting in a grey room, back in England, with their luggage all around them. They were awaiting the Aurors who were going to come in and question Hermione about her actions.

"I mean," continued Hermione, "He flat out denied that he was Harry. He looked at me like he had no clue of what I was talking about."

"Maybe he wasn't Harry Potter," said Ron, beginning to get tired of Hermione's rants, which were just making him more and more confused as to what really happened in the bakery. Plus, it was giving him a headache.

"Ron!" said Hermione, shocked, "I think I would know my own _ex-_best friend."

"All I'm saying is that he didn't have black hair or green eyes or glasses."

"The hair could have been dyed and he could have been wearing contacts."

"What are contacts?"

"They help you see without glasses."

"So wouldn't his eyes still have been green?"

"No, they can change the color too-- oh, never mind it doesn't matter. I know that was Harry!" Hermione was getting very exasperated.

"And I didn't see even a trace of a scar, and I know it couldn't be covered up with that make-up you use," continued Ron.

"But he looked exactly like Harry! I could tell!" Hermione looked desperate.

"All my brothers _look_ like me, but that doesn't mean that they _are_ me. I have to agree with you that he did look somewhat like Harry, but there are a lot of people in the world who look like each other. Besides, I don't think that Harry would have been that cold."

Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "You are infuriating! Do you know that?"

Just then the doors open and two Aurors strode in, one with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other, and the other Auror trailing behind.

"Alright, Mrs. Weasley," barked the first Auror, "As I understand, you pointed your wand at a group of muggles and shouted a spell. Correct?"

"Yes, but--"

"And you knew that you were in a muggle store?"

"Yes, but--"

"So this would be a..."

"Class one offence," filled in the second Auror, "Because she was in a restriction B muggle area in a level 5 country and pointed her wand at two muggles, and with her being a C magic level using 57 of her power and casting a grade 1 spell, and since no memory charms had to be cast and no clean up crew was required, it would all add up to a fine of 3 galleons and 7 sickles."

"You're lucky that this is such a lenient fine, Mrs. Weasley," the Auror gave a short chuckle, "If I were you, I would pay the fine instead of fighting it. It would be ridiculous to bring such a small offence to court, especially since the fine is a relatively small amount. Have a good day."

The Aurors turned to leave.

"Wait!" called Hermione, "The man that I pointed the spell to, did you scan him for magical ability?"

"Yes, we scanned the whole place, Mrs. Weasley," said the first Auror.

"And did any of them have even a B level ability?"

"Um, no, that's why they are known as _muggles_, non-magical people."

"I'm not stupid, I know that. But the man, who said he was an actor or whatever, are you sure he didn't have any ability?"

"Ma'm, I don't know what you're getting at, but for the last time, no, there were no other wizard or witches, or even muggles who had an unusually high level rate, in that building, save for you and Mr. Weasley."

"But Harry was there! I know he was!"

"Who? Harry Potter?"

"Yes!"

"M'am, I think you need some rest. Why don't you go home and take a few days off from work to relax a bit."

"Listen, you pathetic--"

"You know," interjected Ron, "I think you are absolutely right. My wife is rather fatigued and I know that this whole ordeal has put her through a lot. I think sleep is definitely the best thing for her. We will pay the fine immediately. Thank you gentlemen so much for helping us out."

"Just doing our job," said the first Auror. "You can pay the fine at window eight. Just turn right at the end of the hallway to get there."

The Aurors went out of the room, leaving Ron with a very frustrated Hermione.

Ron quickly paid the fine and did his best to get out of the building before anything else could happen.

----------------

James woke up with his head pounding. It was dark out and there were no lights on.

_Where am I_? thought James frantically.

Slowly the events of that afternoon came flooding back, like a dream.

And for a few seconds, James believed that it really was a dream.

But then reality hit him full in the face. James sat up swiftly. _What have I done_?

James played the afternoon over and over in his head, with every detail standing out. He remembered how swiftly the ministry had come. They must have apparated over as soon as they heard that a wand had been brought out in a muggle store. _That means photographers_, thought James, _Lots of them_. There was no way that reporters would miss up on the chance to do a story on a Harry Potter sighting, especially when the sighting was made by the "Boy Who Lived"'s own best friends.

James turned his thoughts to Ron and Hermione, and tried to recall everything he had said. Much of what was said was un-planned and in the heat of the moment.

But there was something that stuck in James' mind. Ron had asked, "Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?" James struggled now to remember what he had answered.

After a few minutes of remembrance, James' eyes widened in astonishment. _Stupid_, he said to himself, _That__ was so stupid. I said "that Harry Potter of yours must have died." Had Ron ever said my name? My full name? Maybe not. No, probably not_.

James smacked himself on the head. How could he have done that? Said something so dumb and obvious? James yelled in frustration and threw a nearby pillow at the wall.

A light clicked on. "James? Are you awake?" asked a voice James recognized as Sarah's.

James was quiet.

"James?" asked Sarah again, coming into the room. "I can see you sitting up, you know."

"Yeah, I'm awake."

"I know that."

"Oh."

"What's going on?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Well, it's around 11:30, so if you are hungry I can whip you up a sandwich or something."

"That sounds good."

"And you know what? I'll get the others, so we can all be down there while you explain what this is all about."

James sighed. "Fine." The idea didn't sound so good after all.

"Good. Jacob and Emma are still here. They're downstairs talking or something. They helped with the rest of the éclairs and with cleaning up from the flood of people we've had in and around the store."

James immediately felt guilty and hung his head.

Sarah noticed. "Oh, James, we are all your friends, and will always be there for you no matter what."

"Thanks," mumbled James. He got up and swallowed a few pills, then headed downstairs to face the madness that was himself.

Once everyone was downstairs with a hot drink in their hands, James knew it was time to tell the truth.

They were sitting back in the kitchen, Jacob and Emma sharing a crate to sit on, Peter and Sarah sitting next to each other, and James, by himself, facing his friends.

James took a deep breath. This was it. After this, there was no going back. He would be acknowledging who he was. Who he _is_. He was not some person who moved to Canada. He was not some guy who liked to teach kids. He was not James Potterson. He was—dare he say it?—He was Harry Potter, a wizard, who had power beyond what people had seen in hundreds of years, and who was too cowardly to face his past.

James looked at the expectant eyes of his friends, Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob.

"You guys want to know what I am hiding," he started out, "And it's understandable. Peter has known me for ten years, and he doesn't know anything about the real me. He doesn't even know my real name." Emma, Sarah, and Jacob looked over at Peter in surprise. Peter also looked rather shocked. "So I will tell you now. My real name is--" he faltered. _Do it_, James told himself sharply. "My real name is Harry Potter, and I'm a-- I'm a wizard."

There was silence.

Then Emma gave a small giggle. "You mean to tell me," she said, her giggling rapidly turning into flat out hysterics, "That you think you are a _wizard_?"

This statement caused Jacob and Sarah to start laughing too, although they tried to hide it.

James was at a loss. This was not supposed to happen. His friends were _not_ supposed to laugh.

"It's not really that funny," said James indignantly.

Unfortunately, Jacob, Emma, and Sarah were laughing to hard to hear James defense.

The only person who was not laughing at James was Peter. In fact, he looked far from amused. He looked angry. Very angry.

Slowly the hysterical trio calmed down, which only led to a very awkward silence.

"I don't know who you think you are trying to fool," said Peter angrily. "How hard would it be to tell the truth?"

"But I am!" cried out James in exasperation.

"Then why don't you show us some magic?" asked Sarah diplomatically.

"Because I can't."

"And this makes you a wizard because...?" asked Emma, smiling slightly.

"Look, I can't do magic because one, I'm taking special medication, and two, if I did, then everyone would find me and most likely drag me to the ministry and force me back into the wizarding world where they will ask all sorts of complicated questions about the murders and the hostages and the crazy homicidal madman who was trying to kill me and they will make me relive the most horrible time of my life over and over again."

"So that's what those pills are for," said Emma thoughtfully.

"Would you guys just listen to me?" asked a very annoyed James. "My real name is Harry Potter, I am the most powerful wizard, and I have no idea as to why nobody will believe me."

"You are a very irritating person," said Peter, "All I want is the truth, and you are spouting out some messed up story about 'being the most powerful wizard' or whatever. Do you really expect us to believe all that?"

James was tired. He had a headache. And the whole situation was going completely wrong. "You want to know the truth?" he asked quietly.

Peter, Sarah, Jacob, and Emma nodded.

"Fine. I was a lawyer in Britain and I was the defender in a criminal case that had Hermione, the woman you saw in the store this afternoon, as one of the witnesses. I won the case, but due to several mistakes made by other employees, the witness protection papers were confused and Hermione's entire family was killed by the man I was hired to defend in court. I couldn't forgive myself. So I quit my job and ran away here to Canada. I threw in the part about me being a wizard as one last attempt to escape my past. I told you that my last name was Potter to make the wizard story more believable. And now you know the truth. I'm just Harry James Potterson, known as James, a poor confused lawyer trying to escape horrible feelings of guilt."

Everyone stared at James. They looked shocked and concerned.

"Poor Jamesie," cooed Emma.

Sarah shook her head slowly. "I'm so sorry."

"You could have told us earlier, James," said Peter, "But I understand why you didn't. I do not blame you in any way, and I will always be there for you. I just want you to know that."

"Thank you all for listening to me," said James in a tired, monotone voice, "I am truly blessed to have such understanding friends."

"Well, we'll always be there for you, dear," said Sarah standing up and patting James on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'm tired. I think it's time for all of us to go to bed. Good night everyone."

The conversation had ended. And rather abruptly, too. Everyone said their goodbyes, each person giving James an extra hug as if in understanding. James and Emma drove home, Peter and Sarah stayed behind, and James was left to drive back to his apartment.

That night, as James was lying on his bed, he thought about that day. Sure it had started off innocently. A regular school day. In fact, most of the day was normal. But the last six hours seemed like something out of a nightmare. Not only had his long lost friends from another world burst onto the scene, but then, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell his current friends the truth about himself, they laughed. They believed some made up story about a poor guilt-ridden lawyer running from his past. And no questions were asked about the poor lawyer story. No, his friends blindly accepted it. Indeed, they _sympathized_ with that lawyer. But they laughed at the real James. The real Harry.

James gave a soft chuckle of tiredness and disbelief, and fell asleep wondering at the irony of the world.

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	13. Anger and Allergies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note**: I know the last chapter made a few people...angry. But that's okay, because a happy resolution will be coming...soon.

Chapter 13: Anger and Allergies

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Ron and Hermione came home to an empty house. Jack and Emily hadn't come home from the Burrow yet. This gave Hermione plenty of opportunity to continue ranting about that happened in Peter's Bakery.

"Ron, I mean it. That really was Harry," cried Hermione

"Look Hermione, I thought it was Harry, too. But you and I have thought about it so much, and talked about it so much, that I just can't remember one thing from another."

"But you were in the bakery for less time than I. Which means that I would know better than you. I mean, after all, it looked just like him. And his cheeks flushed when he recognized me, I think."

"He seemed sure of himself when he said he wasn't Harry Potter."

"Yeah, but you and I both know that Harry quickly learned how to tell a believable lie as soon as--" Hermione gave a small gasp. "Wait, did you just say that he claimed not to be Harry _Potter_?"

"Yes..."

"But how did he know that Harry's last name was Potter?" Hermione's face was bright with realization and hope.

"He would have known because you told him that he was Harry Potter," said Ron, slightly confused.

"No, I don't think I every called him Harry Potter."

"I bet you did. There are a lot of people named Harry, and wouldn't have been smart to call someone by just their first name if you were trying to recognize him. I know you, Hermione. You definitely would have said his last name."

"But what if I didn't?" asked Hermione, feeling once again helpless as her last hope was crushed.

"I know how much you want him back, dear, and I want him back too, but you've got to let it drop. Thinking round and round in circles like this is just going to wear you out, and will not accomplish anything. I know you miss him. I miss him too."

A few tears ran down Hermione's face. "But-- But I was so close. And he looked just like Harry..."

"I know, I know," soothed Ron. He put his arms around her and tried to comfort her as she started to sob.

"It's been so long, and I-- I just want my Harry back. Oh, Ron, I miss him so much!"

"I miss him too--"

Hermione stepped back, suddenly looking angry. "It's been ten years, Ron, _ten years_! Why hasn't he turned up? He should be back by now. I bet he's in some wizard resort in Jamaica, sitting on the beach without a care in the world. He wouldn't become a muggle. Why would he do that? He's one of the most powerful wizards, an _E level,_ for god's sake! You and I are only level C. He's above Dumbledore, above He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, above anyone in _at least_ the last two centuries! He's on the same levels as the founders! What kind of person would give that up? Not Harry, he wouldn't run from that, from what Dumbledore and you and I stood for, what Malfoy and Sirius and Lupin stood for, from what his parents stood for. He wouldn't go back to the world where he was abused and teased and misunderstood. He wouldn't do that, not Harry."

"So you think he's still in the wizarding world?"

"Yes, or-- or dead." This statement caused Hermione to start sobbing again. "It's just not fair, that was him in the bakery..."

"But I thought you just said that Harry wouldn't join the muggle world."

"I don't know what I think. All I know is that I'll do anything to get him back."

"I think you should get some rest, dear. Some sleep."

Hermione's tears were abating and she yawned. "Yes, sleep."

Ron and Hermione made their way to the bedroom. Ron carried the luggage in. Hermione kicked off her shoes and flopped on the bed. She gave one or two small sobs before falling asleep.

Ron snuggled under the covers, but he could not fall asleep. Instead, he became deep in thought.

He knew how badly Hermione felt, mostly because she thought she was the main reason Harry ran away. She had urged Ron to come with her, to go meet up with Harry before he could follow through with his crazy plan, but they had came too early, and had only made things worse.

It was a mystery to almost everyone, including Ron and Hermione, what had happened the night of Voldemort's downfall. A few Death Eaters knew some of the facts, but nobody relied on what they said as solid information.

What happened to the Great Harry Potter? That was the question on everyone's minds. If someone reported a "Harry Potter sighting", all the newspapers came running, anything to find out where Harry was and what really happened that night ten years ago.

Ron suddenly became angry. What gave Harry the right to just get up and leave everything behind? To make Hermione so sad? To just get up and leave everything, Lupin, Dumbledore, Hermione, himself, all his mentors, all his friends? The whole world saw him as a hero, when in reality he was just a big coward. Harry had to be alive, he just had to be.

"I'll find him, wherever he's hiding," whispered Ron aloud, "No matter what I have to do. And the very first thing I'll do when I find him is knock some sense into him, _hard_."

----------------

James jumped out of bed the next morning with renewed energy. He had spent an hour in bed this morning thinking, and he had come to a decision: he was determined to forget everything and move on with his life.

"After all," said James to his reflection in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth, "Why should I feel sorry for myself? I'm perfectly happy." He spat out some toothpaste and filled up a cup of water. "And it's not as if anything is different. People just now believe that I had am unfortunate past, and now I'm over it." He gargled some water, spat it out, and wiped his mouth.

"And even if anything should be different," James continued the conversation while tying his tie, "It would only be that my friends should trust me more, and stop asking questions. Oh sure, they might sympathize with me for a few days, but then it will be over, and everything will be normal again."

James walked into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Luis jumped up on the table and meowed.

James took a bite of cereal, swallowed, and turned to Luis for reassurance. "Besides, there's no way anybody could think anything else about me than what I've said. I only said I look like some actor, and that was vague enough that no one would ever want to fish through loads and loads of movies to find that actor." James took another bite of cereal. "And I said that to wizards, and they definitely won't look into that. Plus, Peter and everybody will probably feel bad whenever they ask me questions about my past, and so they will never try to find out whether I'm telling the truth or not. I covered all the bases, haven't I?"

Luis only tilted his head.

James reverted to silence and finished his breakfast.

"Yep, everything will return to normal," said James in finality. He put his dishes in the sink and swallowed a couple of his pills.

Luis meowed.

"The pills _are_ considered normal, Luis." The cat sat down in front of James and looked up skeptically at the man. "Really, this is all normal." The cat continued to stare up at James. "Okay, I'll say the pills are just for migraines. No, even better, allergies!"

James put a hand on his chest and looked earnestly at Luis. "I have allergies _all_ year, you know. It's _horrible_. My eyes get puffy and red, and my throat hurts, and I'm sneezing _all_ the time, and these pills are the _only_ things that keep me safe from it all. Where did I get them, you ask? In a store somewhere in Europe, but I _really_ can't remember anything more than that. I was just _so_ desperate, that everything else seems to have faded."

James snapped out of his act and bent down to face Luis. "I think that story will do very well. What do you think?" Luis meowed and rubbed up against James hands.

James gave Luis a pet and then stood up and looked at his watch. It was still fairly early. James had half an hour before he had to leave for work. _Last day of school_, thought James.

He sat down on the couch and stared at where the TV used to be. James had thrown the scraps of the blown-up TV in the garbage, but there was still a brown outline of the TV on the wall, left over from when the explosion had slightly burnt the wallpaper. _I should have controlled myself better_, thought James sadly.

With no TV to watch the morning news, James was left alone with his thoughts, which began to roam back ten years; to the night he had found the people who were the saviors in James's life.

----(flashback)----

It was rainy, and dark, and stormy. Lighting flashed and thunder roared. Which, contrary to the many stories that start out with that type of weather, was a blessing for Harry.

The summer storm seemed to be an omen of good fortune, being Harry's first lucky break in a long while. Rain and storm meant no one in their right mind would be outside at this time. Darkness covered the sight of Harry, thunder covered the sound of Harry's footfalls, and the momentary flash of lightning illuminated Harry's way just enough so he could figure out where he was headed.

The latter, he supposed, wasn't truly necessary, as Harry honestly didn't know where he wanted to go, just that he was headed towards the house of Ciara, and that it was in Scotland. Harry had already spent a two months wandering around Scotland, looking in muggle phone books for the woman Ciara. He traveled only at night, and ate only in purely muggle villages. He had taken half of his money out of Gringotts and was lugging it around with him in his backpack. Half of the money had been exchanged for muggle money at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had been under a coat and heavily hooded, of course.

It seemed vital to Harry that no one should recognize him, or else he knew that he couldn't go through with his plan and would end up living in the wizarding world for good, which meant that every day would torture him and make him more and more miserable. The very thought made him shudder.

Harry saw the lights of a town up ahead. The houses on the outskirts were all dark on the inside, but soon Harry came up to the first house with the lights on.

He peered in the window to make sure that it was a muggle house, then went up to the door and knocked. A lady opened the door. Warm yellow light flooded out from the house. Harry could feel heat coming from the inside and could smell something baking.

The lady looked disdainfully upon the dripping Harry. "May I help you?"

"Um, yes. Do you know anything about a woman named Ciara?"

"I'm sorry, but we just moved here. Have a good night." The lady closed the door.

"What's her problem?" Harry muttered to himself as he walked away. He was once again in the darkness and the cold. And he realized that he was hungry.

Harry went to the next house with the lights on and knocked. A man came to the door and pointed towards the end of the town in response to Harry's question. He hastily closed the door, and Harry was once again back where he started, as the man said he only thought there could be a person by that name, somewhere in the village.

Harry would have been happy to know that he had finally come to Ciara's village, except he had already been directed to wrong households in other towns.

_Great_, thought Harry gloomily, _I might have passed her house, for all I know. What am I doing anyway? Hiking all over Scotland to find one woman. I've built my entire future around what she can do for me, but how do I even know she exists? It's hopeless_.

But even thinking this, Harry couldn't just stop everything he had been counting on and hoping for. Thus, Harry slowly made his way to the next lighted house, and knocked on the door. An old lady stepped out and gaped at Harry.

"Oh you poor dear! Look at you, out in the cold! Nobody should be out in weather like this. Here, come inside."

Harry was swept into the house and was promptly seated on a couch with a blanket wrapped around him and a thermometer stuck in his mouth.

"There," said the lady, "That should warm you up. Now don't you move a muscle until I come back with your tea."

She brushed through a swinging door into the kitchen. Harry could hear pots and pans banging and the old lady humming.

Harry leaned forward to try to see into the next room, where another light was on and the rustle of a newspaper could be heard.

"No moving means _no moving_!" cried the lady from the kitchen.

Harry quickly snapped back into place.

The lady soon came out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands and set the tray on the coffee table. She took the thermometer out of Harry's mouth and _tsk_-ed. Then she poured Harry a cup of steaming tea and handed it to him.

"Now then," she said, "I want you to drink that all up. It's good for you."

Harry dumbly nodded his head and took a sip of tea. It didn't taste that bad.

The lady went on. "I have been expecting you, but I must say, you're a bit late."

Harry looked up confusedly at the lady.

"Oh, don't worry, you're not _that_ late."

Harry finally found his voice. "So you must be..."

"Ciara. And my husband is Paul. He's in the other room."

Harry was ecstatic. "I've been looking for you for so long! For two months, in fact. All over Scotland. This is wonderful! You see, I really need--"

"Shh, calm down. You're just working yourself up."

"But I need--"

"No buts. You don't need anything but sleep. Come on, up to bed. Your room is ready."

Ciara gently raised Harry to his feet and wrapped the blanket a little more tightly around him.

"There. Now, come with me and I'll show you your room."

Harry followed Ciara like a little kid up the stairs and into a room with blue and white wallpaper. Ciara turned on the bedside lamp. The room was illuminated in a soft beige light. There was a wooden bed with a white down blanket on top, a blue and white mountain of pillows at the head of the bed, and a blue fleece blanket at the foot of the bed. On one wall was a mirror and against the other was a dresser. Grey pajamas were folded on top, apparently for Harry.

Ciara took the teacup from Harry, which was somehow once again filled with steaming tea, and she set it on the bedside table.

"Now you put on your pajamas and get into bed likity-split. I want you to have a good night sleep."

"Um, thank you."

"Your welcome. Good night." Ciara closed the door softly.

Harry followed her instructions. He put on the grey pajamas and climbed into bed. After taking a sip of tea, he turned off the light and fell asleep.

---------------

A BIG thanks to the people who reviewed the new chapter 12:

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A very eager fan

Thanks a bunch!

Love to all,

Adah


	14. Breakfast and a Purchase

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note**: Sorry this came out so late, I had some family mattes to attend to. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 14: Breakfast and a Purchase

-----------------

Harry woke up pleasantly, with the sun shinning on his face. The tree outside his window was dripping with water left over from the storm the night before. The smell of breakfast prompted him to get up. He put on the clothes he had on the night before, which were now miraculously clean.

"Good morning," said Harry cheerfully as he came downstairs.

"Finally! Good morning!" said Paul, "Ciara, dear, can we eat breakfast now?"

"You impatient old man!" cried Ciara from the kitchen, "Yes, of course we can eat now." She came out and turned to Harry. "Dear, you may sit here," she said, motioning towards a seat at the head of the breakfast table.

"And me?" asked Paul.

"You, my dear Mr. Westin, can sit here." She seated him down in the chair beside Harry, and patted her husband on the head.

"And, Mrs. Westin," said Paul in mock politeness, "When shall breakfast be ready?"

"As soon as you stop asking!"

Paul immediately sat still and stared down at his plate.

Ciara laughed. "Oh, don't you worry, Harry dear, Paul always gets fidgety before breakfast. He's always hungry." Ciara smiled and went back into the kitchen humming.

Paul was still staring at his plate.

Harry wondered how Ciara knew his name, as she had never asked it, and Harry had never volunteered it. _Oh well_, Harry thought, mentally shrugging his shoulders, _She's__ treating me no different, it seems, and she's asking no questions_.

Ciara came back out carrying a plate full of scones and three glasses of orange juice. She set the scones and glasses of juice on the table and then hurried back into the kitchen. She came back out with a plate of eggs and a plate of sausage.

"Now," she said after sitting down in her chair, "We may eat."

Paul smiled and immediately started piling food on his plate. Harry, who was just as hungry, waited until Paul was done. Ciara observed her husband's actions with a kind of horror. Paul looked up a smiled guiltily at his wife.

"Paul!" scolded Ciara, "I'm ashamed of you. We have a _guest_, you know."

"Sorry," answered Paul.

Addressing Harry, she said, "I apologize for my husband's behavior. We haven't had a guest around here for quite some time, and it seems as if he has quite forgotten his manners."

"That's all right, Mrs. Westin," said Harry, "I don't mind."

"Well, have some eggs and sausage, anyway. Or what's left of them," Ciara said, glaring at Paul.

Harry took Ciara's advice and heaped eggs and sausage and scones on his plate. To him, it seemed to be the best breakfast he ever had.

When breakfast was over and the dishes had been cleared away, Ciara led Harry into the living room where she and Paul sat down in seats facing Harry, who was sitting on a couch.

"Now," addressed Ciara to Harry, "Down to business. As I understand, you are here to purchase some of our magic suppressant pills, correct?"

"Yes," answered Harry.

"Good. I will just give you a quick outline of the whole process and what you can expect, as well as the pros and cons to these pills. First, after taking various measurements, my husband and I will make the pills tailored specifically to you."

"Oh? There not just the same pill for everybody?"

"No, heaven's no! Everybody has different magic levels and different needs. The pills are made from a brew devised by Paul and me. It takes about two days, so you will have to stay with us until the pills are finished. The pills should reduce all magic in you, but be warned: it will not _remove_ your magic ability; for that is impossible. It will only make your magic unusable, and therefore undetectable. The pills can help anyone escape detection or become a non-magical person. But, they should not be relied upon because intense anger can over power their use. One pill should last about 24 hours for a typical B level ability, and 18 hours for a C level ability. Also, once you buy the pills, you are set for life. The pill jar will keep refilling itself so you won't have to come back here to buy more."

"Are there any other places that sell pills like these?"

"I once met a woman who knew of a place like this down in Australia, but that was long ago. I don't think you have much to fear of anyone finding out. We keep our dealings very secret."

"And if I start taking these pills, will there ever be a day where I will become immune to them?"

"We've been making these pills for a long time, and the issue has never come up. And we've discovered through people who stop using the pills to return to their former selves that the pills don't make a lasting dent on your magic. You will still be the same level ability one you stop as you were when you started."

"Sounds flawless...are their any downsides?"

Paul spoke up. "Only a few. Over time, a person's magic _may_ -- and notice I say _may_, as this is not true in all cases -- become out of hand, and the person will have to keep a closer watch on his pill schedule. For example, when starting out, a person must take a pill every 18 hours, and if they skip a few hours in between, it doesn't matter. But, a year or two later, if they skip those few hours, their magic will over power them and take control. That is one of the more common downsides. Another one is increased temper, mood swings, and/or anxiety."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Well, there is one more, but this has only happened a few times. Out of the seventy or so clients we've had over the years, this has only happened in a noticeable way to ten of the clients. It is this: Some people have become dependant on the pills. They are addicted. They take them constantly, and the person soon become out of control."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they became a danger to themselves and other people."

"And what happened to them?"

"Um, well, four of them ended up in an insanity ward, and the other six, well, they died," ended Paul sadly.

Ciara sniffled and wiped her eyes

"But that isn't a very common side effect, is it?" asked Harry warily.

"No," answered Paul slowly, "But a risk all the same. We are obligated to warn you."

Harry thought about the wizarding world. _I can't face that. I won't face that_. Harry thought about being in an insanity ward. He thought about death. Those two seemed to be better options that facing the horror that he had seen just three months ago. Though Harry _had_ thought of suicide earlier on, he had decided that death was not the answer; he really did want to make a new and better life for himself.

"Yes, I'll do it. I would like to purchase the pills."

"That's wonderful," said Ciara, wiping her eyes one last time and giving a smile, "I just know they'll work out for you. You'll be on your way to a better life! Now, let me just take some measurements."

Paul went into another room to start gathering the main ingredients while Ciara bustled about gathering measuring tape and other appliances. She wrote down Harry's height, his weight, bone density, body mass index, average food intake (it wasn't that much), and shoe size.

Then she pulled out a big black...thing...that looked like a remote control to a very big toy car.

"Now hold still, Harry dear," she said, putting a hand on Harry's forehead. "This is an Ability Tester and it will measure your magic ability very accurately. But you must keep still."

Harry held his breath while Ciara moved the Ability Tester around Harry's person.

"Well," she said, when she had finished and was writing down the measurements on paper. "Well, well, well. It seems, Harry, that you have quite an ability. Are you aware of your magic level?"

Harry turned bright red and mumbled something indecipherable, but which Ciara took as a "no."

"You are," she continued, "An E magic level."

Harry looked up. "I think you are wrong, Mrs. Westin. That's impossible. There hasn't been a person with that kind of ability for centuries..."

"Yes, not since Athena Cordeilia, the Princess of Delos, whose magic proved to be too much for the girl and killed her at the age of fifteen. That was in 1734. And before that it was the founders, and then Merlin."

"I'm sure a mistake was made. I must have moved or something. Why don't you take a new measurement?"

"Harry," answered Ciara patiently, "Think about it. Doesn't it make sense that you could be an E level?"

Harry remembered the power he felt when he had broken loose from Voldemort's trap. How the magic had coursed through his veins and flowed out through his very fingertips. And how Harry could not control it. It did make some sense, but why hadn't Dumbledore told him? An E level wizard could take out whole armies within an hour. And it takes great power to hurt or kill by magical means an E level wizard. Harry would have been very useful to the war against Voldemort.

But then Harry remembered that he _was_ used and put in danger throughout much of his life. Like in his first year, when he had faced Voldemort. How could Dumbledore not realize who Professor Quirrel was hiding? Leaving a boy of eleven to face a madman who had killed thousands? It _did_ make sense. Dumbledore had to have known. But what enraged Harry was that nobody had informed him of his power.

"How come I didn't know?" asked Harry sadly.

"Oh, sweetie, it's hard, I know. You couldn't be told. Would you have believed it? If you someone told you before you had reached your level, you would have never found your total strength. You had to find it _on your own_."

Silence.

"Well then, what does it mean?" said Harry finally

"Only that it's understandable why you want to escape it."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You see," Ciara went on in explanation, "The more power you have, the more you feel the strain of it on your body. And especially after what you've gone through, it's easy to see that the painful memories mixed with the amount of effort it takes to restrain that power from getting out of control would make anybody want to leave it all behind."

"So you won't stop me from buying the pills?"

"No, I couldn't do that to you."

"Thank you."

"But there will be a few problems."

"Oh?"

"For one, the pills won't work so well. You'll need to take at least two at a time for it to last six or so hours. But," she continued before Harry could get a word in, "I'll offer an extra feature to make up for the pills." Ciara pointed to Harry's scar. "I know that scar is famous throughout the world, and I know you won't get far if people can still see it. Therefore, I will put a substance in the pills that will keep your hair covering your scar. Only force could move your hair aside so that one may see the scar. Otherwise, there will always be a conveniently placed lock of hair covering that area as long as you take the pills.'

"Thank you," said Harry graciously, as he had not thought about the trouble his scar could cause. "Thank you very much."

"My pleasure. Now, I'm just going to get started on the potion. You may stay here and read the paper, or choose a book from our shelves. Just remember to stay inside the house. The walls conceal any magical ability from the ministry, and I don't want them knocking on my door."

Just then, in an ironic twist of fate, there was a knock on the door.

Ciara walked slowly to the door and looked through the peephole. She motioned Harry to hide, and once he had done so, smoothed her hair and opened the door.

"May I help you?" she asked kindly to the two ministry officials on her doorstep.

"Uh, yes. We've been talking to several of the villagers around here and they say that they saw a man walking around here last night. We were wondering if you happened to notice that man. About this tall," the official marked the height with his hand, "With black hair and glasses. You might have noticed a peculiar scar on his forehead...?"

"Why, yes," answered Ciara. "I did see a man with that exact description. I had invited him in. We talked a bit, had some tea, and then he left."

"Did he say where he was going to next?"

"Let me think..." Ciara put on a show of trying to remember. "Aha!" She said suddenly, scaring the officials, "I remember! He said something about going back to London. To his old house, or school, or something."

The ministry officials nodded, writing all the information down.

"Thank you for your time, ma'm," the first one said.

"Um, may I ask what this is all about?"

"Just a...a missing person. We're part of...Scotland Yard."

"Oh," said Ciara, pretending to be concerned, "Will everything be all right?"

"Yes, ma'm, everyone is on the search. We'll find him soon. We are all very worried about him."

"Well, good luck, I hope you find him in London."

"Thank you, ma'm. Your time has been very valuable."

"Have a good day." Ciara closed the door and smiled.

Harry came out from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, dear. Apparently they've got the whole world looking for you." She laughed a bit. "I just love fiddling with their minds. They think I'm a non-magical person. Now everyone is going to be looking all throughout London for you!" She laughed some more.

Harry didn't see the humor in it.

"Well," said Ciara, who stopped laughing abruptly when she saw that Harry didn't find it as amusing as she did, "I'll just start on the pills, then."

Harry spent the next to days lounging around the Westin's house. Ciara and Paul were having quite some time making the pills strong enough for Harry. But eventually the magic suppressant pills were ready, which marked Harry's last day with the Westin's.

It was around noon when Ciara announced that Harry could be on his way.

"Excuse me?" asked Harry.

"The pills are ready, dear," said Ciara with patience. "You can go, now."

Paul came out of the room where the pills had been made and handed Harry a blue bottle with medium grey pills inside. "Ciara will tell you the price," he told Harry.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot..." Ciara hurried back inside the room to collect the amount of each ingredient used to figure out the cost.

Paul leaned towards Harry. "I put an anti-break spell on the jar," he whispered, "Along with a tracking spell that will always keep the jar by your side. And both spells cannot be detected by the ministry unless closely studied. But don't tell Ciara about the 'extra features'; she doesn't know and would probably charge you for it."

"Thank you," whispered Harry back to Paul, just as Ciara walked into the room.

"Well my dear," she said, "The total price for the pills including the extra scar-hiding bit, is 1500 galleons."

Harry widened his eyes. That was a very large amount. But, since the pills would last him for life...

Harry found his backpack, took out 100 pounds for himself, and gave the backpack to Ciara. "I think there is enough money in there. The backpack is larger inside than it is outside, and it also has a charm to make it less heavy. Unfortunately, there is also muggle money in there, but it's all I have."

"Don't worry, dear," said Ciara kindly, "It's just fine. The price of freedom does not come cheaply, I know."

She handed the pills to Harry.

"Now, as a few words of warning," said Paul, "You must remember that repressed magic can do strange things, especially with your level of ability, so make sure to always have your pills with you," Paul winked at Harry, "And, if you ever stop taking the pills, be very careful for the first few days."

"You should take your first pill in here," advised Ciara, "And then I'll apparate with you to where ever you wish. It will take about an hour for the pills to first take effect, so be careful. Are you ready?" Ciara handed Harry a glass of water.

Harry took a deep breath. He was going through with his plan. And hopefully, unlike all his other plans which always seemed to go haywire at one point or another, this one would work, and Harry could live the rest of his life in peace.

_My last moment as a wizard_, thought Harry. This thought made something sink inside him. His throat got blocked up. Harry didn't know whether to be happy that he was going to be a normal person, or whether to be unhappy that he was leaving such an extraordinary world behind.

_And such extraordinary friends, too_. Harry thought about Ron and Hermione. He couldn't face them. Harry knew he was taking the cowardly way out, but there was just too much to explain, and if he did somehow explain it all, the entire wizarding world would blame him for the deaths of hundreds of people.

Harry wanted to be normal, to have a peaceful life, and not have to worry about his friends' safety, or other dangers threatening to take over the world.

Harry took a pill out of the bottle. It looked at it. _Such a small pill holds happiness for me_, Harry thought. He put the pill in his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

Though Harry knew that the pill wouldn't be totally working until an hour or so later, he could still feel something inside of him happening at that moment. It was if all his muscles were relaxing. He felt like he had been holding his breath for years and years, and now could finally breathe.

Harry realized that he did not have to be a wizard any longer. He could be normal. He could finally be happy.

"So," said Ciara, "Where do you want to go?"

Harry gave no thought to the question. He said the first place that he thought of that was not in Europe. "Canada."

"Well then, Canada it is. Any particular city?"

"Toronto?"

"Of course, dear."

Harry said his goodbyes to Ciara and Paul. The Westin's wrote down their address so that Harry could write to them when he got settled. Apparently, they kept in touch with most of their clients.

Ciara took Harry's hand and apparated away. To Canada. To Harry's future and his happiness.

----(end flashback)----

James sat on his couch, lost in thought.

He still wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Westin. Every other month, or so. He should probably write to them about what happened, about seeing his friends. They would probably have some good advice.

James looked at his watch. It was time to go to work. The last day of school was always more of a party day than anything, so James decided to write the letter to the Westin's during lunch and any other chance he got during school.

He got up from the couch. Remembering his thoughts from earlier that morning, James resolved write his letter, receive some advice, and then forget about the whole ordeal.

James would not dwell on his past. He would move on with his life.

----------------

A GIANT thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed chapter 13 (I love reading what you guys and gals have to say):

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Thanks a bunch!

Love to all,

Adah


	15. Photographers and Photographs

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

Chapter 15: Photographers and Photographs

----------------

The last day of school was over. James had packed up his teaching supplies, mailed his letter to the Westin's, and, having nothing else to do, he drove over to Peter's Bakery.

"Wow, it's like there's a celebrity here, or something," commented Emma as she saw that James had just swam through the photographers and entered the store.

James slammed the door closed and swallowed a couple of pills.

"Weird, isn't it?" asked Sarah, looking towards the flashing lights of the cameras.

"Yeah," said James, still a little dazed. "What's it all about?"

"I have no idea. They were here this morning and haven't left yet. I asked them who they were, and why they were here, but all I got in response were a few odd glances."

There was an awkward silence. James could sense that Sarah and Emma were both thinking the same thing: the photographers were there because of yesterday.

The only reason Emma's and Sarah's thoughts were not at least hinted at was because, unknown to James, Sarah had asked Peter, Emma, and Jacob not to nose into James's "turbulent past." She was very much affected by the lawyer story, and wanted everyone to respect James's privacy on the subject.

"Hey James!" said Peter as he walked out of the kitchen. Jacob was following. "How was the last day of work for a long while?"

"Fine," answered James. "And how have you been?"

"Good, but business has been slow with all the photographers blocking up the doorway."

James looked around at everyone. "Say, Peter, how does everyone always get here before me?"

"Huh?" Peter looked quizzically at James.

"As in you, Jacob, Emma, and Sarah. You guys are always here before me. And don't you have any hired help?"

"First of all, I work here," said Peter slowly, "So I'm always here."

James rolled his eyes.

"Second," continued Peter, "Jacob, Emma, and Sarah have no life."

"Hey," said Sarah, "I resent that comment!"

"Me too!" piped up Emma.

"We are just very helpful people," explained Sarah.

"Yeah," agreed Emma, sticking out her tongue at Peter.

"And very mature, too," added James.

"Hush up, Jamesie! You're ruining my argument."

Peter cleared his throat. "And third, I have help from eight to four. They're just not here when you guys come around, which is a good thing if you ask me."

"That's it. I just can't stand the abuse!" said Sarah melodramatically. "I'm under appreciated! Taken for granted! How can I go on living if nobody _believes_ in me?"

Emma giggled.

Sarah looked at her watch. "Well, I'm off to go fight the demons of decay," she said, snapping out of her act. "See you guys tomorrow!"

Sarah helped restore old or damaged buildings. She loved architecture and old irreplaceable antiques, so restoration was one of the best jobs for her. There were flexible hours, too.

Everyone said goodbye and Sarah braved the mob outside the store to go to her job.

There was a heavy silence after Sarah left. It was very strange, because not two minutes ago there had been joking and laughter. Everyone looked at James guiltily and shuffled their feet. Finally Emma spoke up.

"Didn't you say a few days ago that you left Britain because of an argument with your brother over a will? You made me feel very guilty over that."

"No, that was _Peter_ who told you that story," said James, "He was just covering for me so I didn't have to feel so bad."

"Oh," said Emma.

Jacob spoke up. "And what about the pills?"

"Allergies," lied James smoothly.

"Oh."

"Any other questions for me?"

Peter looked at his feet. "The scars on your back were from...?"

James thought a moment. "My house burned down when I was little, and the scars are just burn marks."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh."

"I didn't know you had scars on your back from a fire," said Emma.

"It was very traumatizing," said James factually.

"I see."

Silence was once again present in the bakery.

The door opened and shut very quickly as a customer came in. She looked at the photographers in amazement.

Everyone in the room quickly found things to do as Peter helped out the customer. James stayed a while longer, and then decided to go back home, on account of the awkward atmosphere between him and his friends. Plus, James starting to get nervous with the photographers outside.

"Well, I'd better be going," said James,

Peter went behind the counter. "I'll see you tomorrow, right? Last day of éclair making before the wedding."

"Definitely," said James headed for the door.

Peter smiled. "Thanks. Have a good night!"

"Bye!"

Peter attended to the customer as Jacob and Emma went back into the kitchen to prepare ingredients for tomorrow's baking.

The cameras flashed as James came out of the bakery. James stood in the doorway. He knew that his scar wouldn't turn up in the pictures, but the anxiety and they've-found-me-at-last feeling still lingered. _Relax_, James told himself. _There have probably lots of poor souls who have had to endure this. Harry Potter sightings have probably happened before. It will all fade in a few days_.

James knew the photographers and reporters couldn't ask muggles any questions, which meant that James did not have to say a word.

He just pushed and shoved through the crowd, got into his car, and drove away. He tried to stay calm. He knew the whole ordeal would all be forgotten about. In both worlds. It was just a matter of time.

----------------

"You're famous, Mum!" was the first thing Emily said to her mother.

Jack and Emily returned home that late that afternoon. Percy had dropped them off. Jack was talking animatedly to his father, while Emily beamed at her mother.

"And why am I famous?" asked Hermione.

"You're in the newspaper!" cried Emily passionately. "On the front page!"

"Oh?"

"Look!" Emily shoved the Daily Prophet into her mother's arms.

Hermione looked. She looked harder. She blinked and looked again.

"Don't you see it?" asked Emily impatiently.

"Um, yeah..."

How could she not see it? On the front page was a huge picture of Harry-- or rather, the man Hermione thought was Harry. He was standing in a doorway to Peter's Bakery. The figure in the picture gazed dazedly at the camera. He looked shocked and confused. The figure walked out of the picture, stuck his head back in, waved slowly, and raised an eyebrow.

Hermione stared intently at the man's forehead, but there always seemed to be hair right in front of where Harry's scar should be. _That scar is the only proof I've got_, thought Hermione. _If only I could see it_.

The headline read: "MUGGLE DENIES BEING HARRY POTTER, BEST FRIEND HEART BROKEN"

The article was about the latest "Harry Potter sighting." It told about where it happened, what time it happened, etc., but what made this article so different from the other sightings was that the sighting was made by Harry's old best friend, Hermione (though it made little reference to Ron, mostly likely because he was less affected than his wife). The article, oddly enough, made Hermione out to be a broken hearted hero, who was only trying to find her best friend and the savior of the wizarding world. The man in the bakery was portrayed meaner and ruder than he had been in actuality, which made Hermione all the more sympathetic. This was odd because it was Rita Skeeter writing the article.

Hermione was sure that Rita Skeeter would do anything to make Hermione look bad, and Rita probably could have gotten away with it with this type of story. People who made Harry Potter sightings were usually fanatical, insane, or wanting attention. They did not get good press. Yet here was the perfect chance for Rita to ruin Hermione's good reputation, and the reporter passed it up. _She must still be recovering from the ordeal from 4th year_, though Hermione with a rather evil grin on her face.

"Isn't it _wonderful_?" asked Emily.

"Yes, thank you for showing me; I didn't get a chance to read the paper this morning."

Hermione gave her daughter a hug and asked questions about how things went at the Burrow. Nothing exciting had happened, but Emily gave Hermione a full report anyway.

Once Emily finished talking, she ran over to sit on Ron's lap to tell him all about Hermione's big article. Jack came over to give his mother a hug and to say hello.

"Wow, mum, I never thought you would be one to make a Harry Potter sighting. Usually only crazy people do that kind of thing," commented Jack.

"Gee thanks, son, I love you too," teased Hermione.

"So...was it him?"

"Who, Harry?"

"Yeah."

"I think so."

"Wouldn't it be cool if it was? My mother seeing Harry Potter!"

"Yeah...But Jack, you _do_ know that I knew him in school, right?" Ron and Hermione had never flat out told their children that their best friend used to be Harry, but they didn't try to hide it, either. Of course, they figured that Jack and Emily would know a lot from the media.

"In _school_?" said Jack incredulously. "Did you have any classes with him?"

"Well, yeah. Why did you think that your father and I had to go speak at the conventions?"

"Because you fought in the war, right?"

"Sort of. But more because we were friends with Harry."

"Ooh, you're on a first name basis with him!" Jack laughed.

"Here, I'll go dig up some pictures to show you." _This will also let me do some investigating_, thought Hermione.

She disappeared into her bedroom. Ron and Emily came over and Jack filled them in on why Hermione was digging through her desk.

"Really? You and Mum were friends with Harry Potter?" cried Emily, looking at her father.

"Um, yeah..." said Ron distractedly, wondering what had come over his wife to suddenly want to tromp down memory lane.

"Here they are!" sang Hermione as she came out of the bedroom, holding the pictures.

She set them on the coffee table in front of her family.

One picture showed Ron, Hermione, and Harry laughing with each other, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, Harry in the middle.

Another picture showed all three of them in their sixth year in front of the Christmas tree wearing the famous Weasley sweaters. There was wrapping paper all around them and Hermione was wearing a bow from a present on her head like a hat.

And there was one of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, and Harry. The men were wearing tuxedos, Hermione was in a bridesmaid dress, and Ginny was wearing a wedding gown. Ron and Hermione were standing next to each other smiling. Ginny was in the middle grinning proudly. Harry had one arm over Draco's shoulders and was leaning forward, laughing about something, which made Draco look down at Harry and frown.

"Wow!" said Jack, staring at the photographs. "This is really cool!"

"Yeah!" agreed Emily with much enthusiasm.

Ron was smiling.

Hermione started to smile too, partly because she fondly remembered the happy times, partly because her kids were so excited, and partly because she had just thought of a plan that would prove to everyone that Harry Potter was indeed alive.

----------------

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Love to all,

Adah


	16. 100 Éclairs and File Cabinets

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note**: Uh, regarding reviews...I love them, but posting the same review over and over again is a bit...excessive...thank you, though, for your enthusiasm and, don't worry, I'll keep posting as often as I can.

Chapter 16: 100 Éclairs and File Cabinets

----------------

The photographers were gone from Peter's Bakery by noon the next day, which was a relief for James. He walked into the bakery that afternoon without seeing one photographer.

"Hello everybody!" shouted James as he burst into the kitchen of the bakery.

"My, aren't we happier today?" asked Emma.

"Well...yes, I think I am feeling better," said James. "And would you like to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because we get to make a bizillion éclairs today!"

Emma grinned, which made Jacob groan.

"That means I get to put the chocolate sauce on!" shouted Emma happily.

"On the éclairs or Jacob?" asked Peter.

"Both both both!" sang Emma. She started dancing around the kitchen singing a song she made up. "I'm putting choc-o-late on éclairs and My Cobbie! La la la!"

James shook his head, laughing. "What did she have for breakfast?"

"Beats me," answered Peter, "But, boy, could I use some of her energy." Peter rubbed his hands together. "Well, should we start with the festivities?"

"What about Sarah?"

"She'll be here around 3:00."

"Okay. Yes, then. Let's start the baking."

Emma skipped around the kitchen pulling out ingredients from cabinets and putting them on the counter. Peter directed how much of everything was to be used. Jacob and James poured and mixed the ingredients, trying as hard as possible to keep Emma occupied with something small and harmless. She was stirring pastry batter at the moment.

And in no time, it seemed, the trio had finished preparing all the batters and creams and sauces, and Sarah had arrived.

The group got started on the assembling of the éclairs.

"I call the chocolate sauce!" shouted Emma.

"Oh no you don't!" said Sarah. "Last time you put way too much sauce on. There is no way you are going to do that again!"

"Not fair! I _like_ putting chocolate sauce on the éclairs. Are you going to deny me the job of pouring the sauce? Of putting the most tastetiest stuff ever on the best pastries ever?" Emma raised her voice. "Are you saying, Sarah, that you would deny me the pleasure-- no, the _privilege_-- of pouring the only sauce that makes me happy? That you would deny me my constitutional right to happiness?"

"Psst, Emma," whispered James, "You're in Canada, not America."

"It doesn't matter!" yelled Emma shrilly. "Sarah is denying me happiness itself!"

Sarah rubbed her forehead. "Fine, pour the sauce on. Just do it properly. And bring the volume down a few decibels, okay?"

"Thank you Sarah," said Emma sweetly.

"Whatever."

With that, the group began putting together the éclairs under Peter's direction. By 7:00, all one hundred éclairs were finished.

Everyone was tired from all the baking, so one by one, each person left to go home, wishing Peter good luck with his éclairs tomorrow at the wedding.

----------------

"You two know what to do, right?" asked Hermione. They were outside the Ministry building and had just apparated over.

"Of course we do," answered Jack.

Emily nodded in agreement. "We've been practicing," she said proudly.

"I know," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, "You've been practicing for six years now, both of you. Now, you must remember not to give the game away by laughing. Are you guys ready?"

Jack and Emily nodded.

"Let's go."

Hermione walked into the Ministry building with an air of authority. She brushed by the receptionist with Jack and Emily in tow.

"Wait!" shouted the receptionist feebly, "You need a special pass to be in the building...oh never mind," she added, when she saw that Hermione was still walking forward determinedly and paying no attention.

Hermione recalled from her former Auror days the layout of the Ministry building with surprising accuracy. Without getting lost once, she strode right up to the manager's secretary of the Files of Old and New Cases section.

"Good morning," said Hermione, "I'm Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley's wife. I made an appointment Wednesday morning to see the manager, Mr. Preese, at 10:00." The secretary started ruffling through papers while Hermione kept talking. "I'm here to access some files for a presentation I am doing for a conference. I am also here to do some research for Professor Albus Dumbledore. I assume Mr. Preese can show me where to find these files?"

The secretary was still flipping through papers. "Uh, yes, he will be right with you, ma'm. Er, what was your name again?"

Hermione frowned and sighed exasperatedly, which made the secretary wince. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Mr. Preese will be right with you."

Jack and Emily smiled proudly at their mother as the secretary hurriedly got up and hesitatingly knocked on a wooden door. The door opened and Mr. Preese's stuck his head out.

Mr. Preese was a small, nervous man. He was in charge of filing all the records of past cases that the Ministry had dealt with. He had no importance except making sure that only people with appointments looked at the files they specifically requested ahead of time.

"Mr. Preese?" said the secretary. "A Hermione Granger is here to see you. She has a 10:00 appointment."

"I thought I didn't have a morning appointment today."

The secretary looked to see if Hermione was listening. "I-- I must have misplaced it, Mr. Preese. She says it's for a conference and Professor Dumbledore."

Mr. Preese came out of his office after hearing the name Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, she says? Well, I guess it's important."

Mr. Preese walked over to Hermione. "What were the files did you say you wanted to look at?"

"I clearly explained this over the phone," said Hermione, annoyed. "I'm here to look at the files from last month's trial of Antonio Bertinelli, leader of the Sicilian mafia in England, who was caught in Diagon Alley. I also need to look up the trials of some of Antonio Bertinelli's family members that have been happening throughout this month."

Mr. Preese gulped, clearly unnerved by Hermione's tone of voice. "Why, yes, of course, Ms. Granger. Just follow me. Right this way."

He led Hermione, Jack, and Emily to a room filled with file cabinets.

Mr. Preese handed Hermione a quill and some paper. "You may take notes on the files, but you cannot make any copies." He pointed to a drawer. "This is the drawer for the Bertinelli trial." He pointed to another. "This drawer has his family trials that are older than ten years. This drawer has Bertinelli family trials from one to ten years ago. This drawer has the family trials that took place over a month ago but less than a year ago."

Mr. Preese expanded his arms to include a whole section of drawers. "And these drawers have every case that has involved the Ministry in the last month. The family trials you are looking for can be found under Bertinelli or Capella. Capella is Antonio Bertinelli's mother's side of the family."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "It all seems to be in good order."

Mr. Preese went up to the first drawer he had pointed to and started pulling out files. "I'll stay here to help you with your search. Now, all these files are relevant to the trial and have been written up by the Ministry, and these are the newspaper clippings from the Daily Prophet, and these are the newspaper clippings from papers in America, and these are from Asia, and these are from other European countries besides England, and these are clippings from South America..."

Hermione turned around and winked at her kids, while Mr. Preese kept talking. Right on cue, Jack and Emily started bickering.

"Stop hitting me!" said Jack.

"I'm not hitting you!" answered Emily.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Jack's and Emily's voices became louder and louder until it was a full-fledged war.

Emily ran around in circles taunting Jack, and then hid behind Mr. Preese when Jack came near.

"You're just a big ugly head!" yelled Emily.

Jack stomped over towards Emily. She squealed and clung to Mr. Preese's ankles.

"Yeah? Well at least I'm not some sissy snake headed girl!" retorted Jack.

Jack chased Emily around Mr. Preese. Mr. Preese ended up tripping and falling. Files and papers were spilled everywhere.

"Oh I am so sorry!" said Hermione, helping Mr. Preese up. "I guess kids will be kids. You know, I'm pretty sure I can manage on my own. I'm sure you have lots of important work to do."

"Sorry, ma'm, but I am supposed to stay in the files room when another person is in here. Ministry regulations."

Emily started screaming. Jack started throwing important papers around.

"But this is requested by Dumbledore, Mr. Preese," said Hermione. "And he needs this as fast as possible. I'm sure the Ministry will understand. Don't you trust me?"

Hermione smiled sweetly. Emily yelled harder. Jack started folding the files into paper airplanes.

Mr. Preese looked torn. "Um, okay...but only because this is for Dumbledore."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Preese. I'll be done in no time."

Mr. Preese walked quickly from the room and closed the door.

"Whew," breathed Hermione. "That went better than expected."

Emily and Jack walked up to their mother.

"How did we do?" asked Jack.

"You guys were perfect," said Hermione, kissing each child. "Now, can you two keep an eye on the door for me?"

"Sure thing!" said Emily. She and her brother ran up to the door and stared through the frosted window.

Hermione started looking through the resent cases section.

"H...Harry Potter..." she mumbled to herself.

She found nothing, and moved on to the letter P. "Potter...Potter..."

She looked under C for Canada, and then under Calgary. Still nothing.

"Aha! I'll try G! Granger..." She flipped through files, but still found nothing.

Finally, it was under W, for Weasley, that she found what she was looking for.

"Here it is!" she said excitedly.

It was a scroll of paper that held all information about the "Harry Potter sighting" Hermione had been involved in. The file even had all newspaper clippings that were relevant.

On the Ministry-filed scroll, Hermione could see all observations made by the Ministry. It had the time and date of the sighting, the time of the spell performed in muggle area, the longitude and latitude of the location, the number of people there, a copy of all recorded dialogue, a magic detector scan, and the new labels of each muggle involved, in case the Ministry needed to perform any memory charms in the future.

Hermione pulled out her wand and made a copy of the scroll. Then she put the file away neatly, cleaned up the room, and put the copied file away in her purse.

"Ready to go?" she asked her kids.

"Yeah," said Jack. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes I did. But let's hurry home. I'll show you guys there."

Hermione, Jack, and Emily said a hurried thank you to Mr. Preese, then got out of the building as quickly as possible. Hermione took Jack's and Emily's hands and apparated back home.

"So, what did you find?" asked Jack eagerly as soon as they were home.

"Wait, is Ron still home?" said Hermione.

"No, he said he wasn't going to be home until five. He's in a meeting."

"Good. Now, I need you guys to promise me something."

Jack and Emily nodded in all seriousness.

"You guys cannot tell your father about this."

"Why?" asked Emily.

"Well, because, I don't think he would like it if we told him. It can only be us three who know, for right now. So, promise you won't tell?"

"I promise," said Jack and Emily in unison.

"Okay, here it is." Hermione pulled out the scroll from her purse. "Here it has a copy of what was spoken between me and the man I think was Harry. Now, if you look closely, you'll see that I never said the last name 'Potter', and neither did Ron. The one time I was going to say 'Potter' I was interrupted, see? But," Hermione pointed to the bottom of the scroll, "Here, when Ron says ' Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?' the man I thought was Harry answers 'That Harry Potter of yours must have died.' But how did the man know Harry's last name?"

Jack and Emily looked at their mother excitedly. This was big.

"And," continued Hermione, "When I pointed my wand at the man I thought was Harry, he _ducks_ and he says 'No! Stop! I can't block anything!' But how would a muggle know what I was doing, and then know that he could block a spell?"

"It's him! It's him!" shouted Emily, smiling.

"Oh, but look," said Hermione, "There's one problem." Jack's and Emily's smiles faded. "You see," said Hermione, pointing to the scroll, "Here are the results of a magic detector scan. The man I thought was Harry has a magic level too low to be a wizard. It would be highlighted in red ink, like mine, if he was."

"What are all those numbers for?" asked Emily.

"Those show the exact percent of the magic level in each person."

"Well, then everybody there can do magic, right?"

"No, you see, all people, even muggles, have a certain amount of magic inside them, only for muggles it is a very low amount; too low to be useful. Occasionally a muggle's magic will do something of consequence, but it is usually thought to be just plain old good luck."

"Oh." Emily looked sad once again.

"But Mummy," said Jack, "That man you thought was Harry has _no_ magic."

"Excuse me?"

"Look here." Jack pointed to the scroll. "It says here '0'. That means no magic. But I thought you said that all people have magic."

"They do..." said Hermione quietly.

"So...?"

"So, something strange is going on here."

"That's good, right?"

"Yes, yes, it's very good. My plan might work after all."

"Goody goody goody!" said Emily happily.

Hermione pulled out a small grey sphere from her pocket.

"Hmm, it's says here 'James Potterson, muggle # 534'. They keep a number on every muggle involved with the wizarding world for about a month, just in case anything weird starts to happen. Usually nothing does, but it's for safety. This numbering system happens to be very good for us."

Hermione tapped her wand on the sphere and said, "_Insequi_. Follow James Potterson, Calgary, Canada, muggle #534. Record all conversations with the words 'wizard', 'witch', 'England', 'Hogwarts', 'Hermione Granger', 'Ron Weasley', 'Draco Malfoy'. _Abire_."

The sphere turned a few times in the air, then zoomed out the window.

"Well, I think that should cover it" said Hermione.

"What was that, Mum?" asked Jack.

"It was a Spy Sphere. It will follow the man I think is Harry and it will come back to us when it has any conversations recorded with the words I said. That way we'll find out whether or not he's Harry."

"Your plan will work, Mum," reassured Jack.

"Yeah," piped up Emily, "He won't be able to hide for long."

----------------

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Love to all,

Adah


	17. Letters and a Reprimand

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note**: Gaa! I am so deeply sorry for how long it has taken me to post. My life sorta...crumbled. But everything is up and running now, so you can expect updates _much_ more regularly.

Chapter 17: Letters and a Reprimand

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Peter's éclairs proved to be a hit. Everyone at the wedding loved them, and there were even a few remarks that éclairs could one day be more common at weddings than wedding cakes. Peter, though, didn't share this bit of information with Jacob, Sarah, Emma, and James, partly because he feared the physical abuse he would suffer when the others realize they might be stuck making éclairs for the rest of their lives, and partly because he didn't want Emma to get too excited and start making chocolate sauce.

Several days had passed and James finally got a reply from the Westins. James immediately opened the letter as soon as he saw where it had come from.

"_Dear James,_

_ "We are so sorry about your troubles. We wish there was something more we could do. Though it is a good thing the Ministry didn't recognize you or put a memory charm on you. It's a shame your friends didn't believe you. That would have given you a chance to finally be out in the open and not so secretive. _

"_Paul and I both wish you weren't so paranoid over your identity. We want you to be happy, dear. Not suffering anxiety attacks because someone might uncover the real you that has been hidden beneath all those tales. Paul is shaking his head while I write this letter. He doesn't agree. He thinks that although it would be better if you could be the real you, it is still perfectly acceptable to want to create a new life for yourself. And he says that in your situation and being who you are, he would want to live as a non-magical person with no connection to his past, too. _

"_Oh, well, it's your life, and we both agree that you've done excellently. You're our favorite client, and we're proud of all you've done for yourself in the last several years. We miss you very much. It was so much fun when we went with you to Italy three years ago. We had a great time._

"_Which leads us to the advice you wanted us to offer about going to London.__ We both think you should go, for several reasons. One is because of your friend Peter. He is like a brother to you, and your relationship seems rather stained at the moment. It would be a good time to reinforce that wonderful friendship you have and to spend time with Peter's family, who consider you part of their family. And besides, it's Christmas, and we're sure that Peter and his family will want to be with you._

"_The second reason is that we would like to see you while you're in London, and would love to meet you for dinner or something. Paul and I go to London every year to buy supplies, usually around Christmas time, and it would be lovely if we could be there during the time when you're there._

"_We hope you will consider our advice, and will write us back soon._

"_With love,_

"_Ciara__ and Paul Westin_"

James smiled as he read the letter. The Westin's seemed to have an answer for everything. And they gave out good advice.

Reading the letter made James feel better about the whole London issue. Ciara had this way of reasoning out problems that made everything seem okay. No one would see James as anyone but James. He would have a fun time with the closest people he had to family. Simple as that. And, as an added bonus, he could visit Ciara and Paul. It would be fun.

James looked through the rest of his mail.

Bill, bill, bill, dentist postcard, and an invitation.

He opened the invitation, sensing what it was.

And he was right! It was Emma and Jacob's wedding invitation. They were getting married in late July, on the 26th.

_It's about time_, thought James. They had been going out for almost two years now.

James push-pinned the wedding invitation to the corkboard above his desk. Then he went out and headed for Peter's bakery to tell Peter a nice bit of good news.

The door chimed as James walked into the bakery. A customer was being helped by a blond-haired man who worked at the bakery. James waved hello and walked into the kitchen.

There were about five other people in the room cooking. Peter was there drinking a glass of water. He stood up and smiled when he saw James.

"Well, look who it is!" Peter said happily.

"Hey Peter," said James. "I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Okay,"

"Um, is your offer for me to go to England with you still open?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Well, I think I can make it. I mean," joked James, "My schedule is quite full, what with my stress-inducing job and my over-demanding large family, but I think I can find time to squeeze in a trip to England..."

Peter laughed. "Wonderful! I'm so happy you can come. Mom and Dad will be happy too, not to mention the rest of the family. They love you so much, James... you're like a long lost family member, or something. And, since you're British, you can take us to all your favorite London haunts. And you'll sound like you belong there when you speak, not like us who will have such awful accents."

"I don't know, Peter... my British accent has all but faded."

"Doesn't matter, we'll have fun."

"Well, I'm excited. Hey, did you get Emma and Jacob's wedding invitation yet?"

"Yeah. Boy, does it sound nice. And Sarah was talking for about an hour about how wonderful marriages are, and how nice it must be to be engaged, and how great it must be to live in the same place as your boyfriend. Needless to say, I got the hint."

"So...are you ever going to ask her?"

"About what?"

"To get _married_, stupid."

"Oh, well, one day."

"Good. I like her."

"Yeah...me too." Peter looked very flustered.

James decided to change the subject.

"So," he said, "Did Emma and Jacob want a cake, or éclairs?"

Peter groaned. "No," he said, "No more éclairs. I won't be able to stay sane if they ask for éclairs. At least, not if they ask for more than fifty."

----------------

Hermione's face lighted up as she saw the SpySphere float in through the window and land on her desk. She was at home for the weekend and was grading papers and final exams for her DADA classes.

She picked up the SpySphere a held it like a prize. "It's about time!" she said happily, "It's almost been a week."

Carefully, she tapped the sphere with her wand and said a spell to make it relate all conversations it heard with the specified words in them.

Silver words streamed out of the sphere and floated in the air, like smoke.

"_Number of conversations heard: one_," the words read. Then, James's conversation with Peter burst from the sphere in high volume.

"_Hey Peter, I have something I want to talk to you about._" screamed the globe the voice of James.

"_Okay_" shouted the sphere in Peter's voice.

Hermione was horror-struck. She clutched the sphere to her chest and whispered frantically, "Quiet quiet quiet quiet... shhh!"

Despite Hermione's attempts to keep it quiet, the sphere could still be heard. "_Um, is your offer for me to go to England with you still open?_" said the sphere, still very loud, in James's voice.

Hermione's office door burst open and Ron stood in the doorway.

"What is going on?" he asked, rather annoyed.

"Nothing!" said Hermione, her voice high. She whipped the sphere behind her back. "Nothing at all!"

From the sphere, James's voice rang out, "..._but I think I can find time to squeeze in a trip to England..._"

"Nothing?" asked Ron suspiciously. "What are you hiding behind your back? And is that the voice of the muggle we saw at the bakery?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then, what is it?"

The awkward pause was filled with the sound of James calling, "_I don't know, Peter... my British accent has all but faded._"

The sphere yelled finally in Peter's voice, "_Doesn't matter, we'll have fun._" And the conversation was over. Silence descended on the room.

"Okay, Hermione...You better have a _very_ good excuse for this."

"Um... I can explain..."

"So? What's going on?"

"Look, Ron... Don't be mad at me--"

"Oh no," groaned Ron, "That means something bad..."

"No! It's good! At least, I think it's good." Hermione started speaking in a rush. "You see, I went to the ministry and said I was going to do a conference for Dumbledore and the guy let me into the file room and then the kids started screaming and then the guy left the room and I got the file from that incident at the bakery and then I sent a SpySphere to listen in on all the muggle's conversations that had certain words in it and then the sphere came back and you heard the conversation that the sphere recorded and I didn't tell you because I thought you would be _mad_ at me and look! now I _know_ you are because your face is almost as red as your hair!"

Hermione sighed and sat down breathlessly in her chair.

There was a pause while Hermione's hurried speech took time to sink into Ron's conscience.

Ron said finally, "Wait, let me get this straight... You essentially broke into the Ministry by using Dumbledore's name to get you in, with out his permission, I'm assuming, because you and your little plan seem to have priority over everything including law and privacy rights; you made an illegal copy of a Ministry file, which, might I add, is extremely dangerous because the Ministry probably has charms on the documents to make sure that doesn't happen; you lied to me about all of this; and if I heard you correctly, you did this all in front of the _kids_ and _encouraged_ them to not tell me about it?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, beginning to say one excuse, then changing her mind and beginning another.

"Hermione!" burst out Ron, "How could you do this? You've broken the law, used Dumbledore's good name with out asking, and have been a very bad example to our kids! You've put our family in danger with the law! What were you thinking?"

"Look, no one will find out that I made a copy of the document. The man in charge of the department was so nervous that he wouldn't report it to the rest of the Ministry for fear of enraging Dumbledore. And besides, he thought, I was researching a separate case, not the one with Harry and I at the bakery."

"I repeat: What were you thinking?" Ron was shaking with anger. "Or were you thinking at all? This is just like in second year when you insisted that we steal supplies to make Polyjuice Potion, and then knock out two students to steal a piece of their hair. Or in third year when you had that whole time-turner thing for your classes and you stressed yourself out and made yourself sick with all the work you insisted on doing. Or all those other years when you insisted on doing things that were against the rules or harmful to yourself or other people, because you thought yourself above laws and all that. When your ambitions get hold of you, Hermione, nothing stands in your way, not even rationality. And what if your supposed Harry is actually not Harry? What if you're wrong, Hermione, and you put our family in danger all for nothing?"

Hermione looked like she was about to cry. A single tear slid down her cheek.

There was silence while Ron willed himself to take a deep breath and count to ten.

"Look," said Ron, "I didn't mean to dash your hopes. I was just scared, that's all. I was scared that we would get in trouble, and I don't want our life to be ruined."

More tears trickled down Hermione's face.

Ron bent down in front of Hermione and put his hand on her knee. He looked up into her eyes. "Sweetheart, you could be right. That man could be Harry. I _want_ him to be Harry. But I don't want you to be crushed if your hopes aren't fulfilled." Ron thought a moment. "Tell you what: I promise to fully support you in your plan to find Harry, on two conditions: one, that you do not do anything else illegal or harmful to our children, and two, that you will promise not to get your hopes up too high, by thinking that this man will definitely be Harry. Do you agree?"

Hermione gave a small sniff. "You-- You mean that you will _help_ me find Harry? And you won't get mad at me?"

"Yes, but you have to promise me not to expect too much. I don't want you to be depressed if this man does not turn out to be Harry. Promise?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I promise."

"Good," said Ron, "Now, what sort of plan did you have in mind?"

Hermione smiled. "Well, this SpySphere has revealed that the man is going to London for Christmas..."

----------------

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	18. Owl Post and Acceptances

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note**::pants: Chapter...posted... :falls in to a coughing fit from working so hard: See? I'm getting faster... :thinks: Okay, _slightly_ faster. But it's an improvement, right? (Riiiiight...)

Chapter 18: Letters and Acceptances

----------------

It was two months later, and almost time for the weddings. Jacob and Emma were getting married on the July 26th, and so were Ginny and Daniel.

Daniel's family, the Bollis's, had apparated and taken Floo powder to England, so the ceremony could be near the Burrow. This was decided by the fact that there were way too many Weasleys to ever try to coordinate a convenient location on another continent, and the Bollis thought it would be nice to visit England. School had ended for Hermione in June, and she could go home and not worry about teaching.

Jacob and Emma were just as excited about their wedding, but they were trying something a little unconventional. They had decided to spend the weekend before their wedding with their families, alone. Both Jacob and Emma had agreed upon this, thinking it best to get any last minute family bonding moments done before they became one entity. Jacob was spending time at his sister's house on the other side of Calgary. His parents were staying there, as well. Emma went down to San Francisco to stay with her parents, being an only child.

Thus a new chapter begins...

----------------

"Is everyone here?" asked Hermione brightly, as she saw the last of the Bollis's apparate over.

"Yes, I think so," said Ginny.

"Perfect. Hey, Ron? Will you help me set the table?"

Ron got up from the couch where he had been reading some papers. He folded the papers up and put them in a pocket.

"Sure," he replied. "You know, I can't believe you actually wrote a report explaining how we're going to find Harry and then ---"

"Shh!" interrupted Hermione. "Not here." She handed Ron a stack of placemats.

"All I'm saying is that you must really want to find him."

"Well don't you?" asked Hermione, irritated. She roughly pilled napkins on top of the placemats Ron was holding.

"Well, yeah. But, um, honey? Don't you think your plan, is, uh, a little _illegal_?"

"You obviously didn't read article five, section 2, where I explain exactly why it's _not_ illegal." Hermione balanced a tray of silverware on top of the stuff Ron was holding. "Any other qualms you have with my paper?"

"Yeah. What about all those strategic locations for everyone to stand at? Don't you think that's a little...unnecessary?"

Hermione glared at her husband.

"Uh, I guess not..." said Ron weakly. "I'll just go set the table, then."

He walked away, struggling under the weight of the items for the place settings, mumbling something about magic not helping the wrath of wives.

Jack and Emily were playing with several cousins in the yard. Percy's eldest, Mark, 17, had organized a Quiddich game with the older Bollis kids. Fred and Angelina's eldest girls were, at the moment, ordering two of Daniel's brother, John's, kids to guard their goal a little better.

Mr. and Mrs. Bollis were chatting amiably with Mrs. Weasley. Percy was talking to John about the England Ministry and John's wife, Regina, was taking to Angelina and Penelope. Daniel had two other sisters, Melissa and Rachel, both married, and Rachel had one daughter currently playing in the family quiddich game. Rachel, Melissa, Ginny, Daniel, Fred, George (who had not yet married-- he seemed to enjoy his bachelor life), Bill, his wife Kate, and Charlie (who wasn't married either) were helping to cheer on the game.

Needless to say, the two rather large families got along fine together.

Regina, Angelina, and Penelope came over to Hermione, who was at the stove, which was covered in pots that had little wooden spoons stirring the contents inside by themselves.

"Need any help with the cooking?" asked Penelope.

"Sure," said Hermione brightly. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Umm, let's see... Penelope, why don't you wash the lettuce, and don't use a spell; I don't trust a spell with washing food..."

Penelope laughed good-naturedly and shook her head. "Whatever you say, head chef."

"And Angelina, dear," went on Hermione, "Can you help Ron? I haven't seen him since I sent him to set the table, and I'm pretty sure that's a bad sign... wouldn't want him stabbing himself with a fork, or something. Do you think you can teach him how to set a table for me?"

Angelina giggled. "Fred does the same thing... can't put the silverware in the correct place to save his life... but maybe that's because he never _uses_ it." She giggled some more and Hermione joined in.

"Isn't it the truth?" said Hermione. Angelina went off to find Ron. "Well, it's just you and me chickens, now, isn't it?" asked Hermione to Regina. "Let me see... Do you think you could help me with this fish I'm trying to cook? I can't ever seem to cook fish right; I always burn it..."

Regina gladly helped Hermione. They chatted and laughed while they cooked. Soon, lunch was done cooking and it was time to eat. The food was set on the table and the quiddich game was paused.

The little kids had their own table to sit at and seemed to be prattling on about chocolate frog trading cards. Hermione and Regina served them their food, then sat down themselves at the larger table.

"So, how is the game going?" shouted Hermione towards the end of the rather long table, to where the older kids were sitting.

"We're winning!" shouted back Samantha, one of Fred's daughters.

"Don't be too sure about that, Sam!" said Mark, "My team still hasn't caught the snitch yet, which we _will _do."

Mark's team gave a small cheer.

John's eldest son, David, shot back, "Na-uh. _We're_ going to get the snitch. And besides, even _if_ you caught the snitch, which you _won't_, we would still win by ten points."

Samantha and John's team cheered.

"Maybe I shouldn't have asked," whispered Hermione to Regina.

Soon the war between teams calmed down enough for them to eat, and there was relative silence. The adults were talking quietly to one another.

Suddenly, owls flew in and dropped letters on several of the kids' plates.

"Looks like Hogwarts has sent its school supply letters," commented Percy.

A few of the kids grumbled something along the lines it being illegal to think about school in the summer.

"Mum! Mum!" shrieked Emily, "Jack got a letter! He did! Look! And so did George! He got a letter, too!"

Ron and Hermione rushed over to where Jack was sitting, while Fred and Angelina went over to where their youngest and only son was sitting.

Jack beamed at his parents, proudly holding his acceptance letter. "I got in!"

"Congratulations!" said Hermione, giving her son a hug.

Ron patted Jacks shoulder. "I knew you could do it."

Fred and Angelina were congratulating George.

The other Weasley family members, including cousins who currently went to Hogwarts, all gathered around Jack and George, full of congratulations.

"Hey, George!" asked Jack. "You wanna be in the same house?"

"Definitely!" George answered. "This is going to be so cool!"

Not three minutes later did another group of owls fly in. This time letters were dropped onto several of the Bollis' kids' plates.

"It's the Toronto School of Magic," explained Rachel. "They must be sending out their supply forms, too."

One of John's kids got accepted to the school, and all the other older ones got supply lists.

"Well, let's make a toast," offered Mr. Bollis, "To all the new students, and the ones returning."

A toast was made, and soon everyone continued the meal.

----------------

Jacob opened his eye groggily. He could have sworn he heard something.

_ Thump_.

There it was!

Jacob swiftly got up from his bed. His clock said 8:30 am.

Another thump came from the hallway.

Jacob slipped a shirt over his head and crept cautiously down the hallway. He could hear his sister setting the table for breakfast and his brother-in-law, niece, and parents talking quietly.

Suddenly there was a rapid knocking from the closet. Jacob must have jumped a mile.

"Excuse me?" called a voice from inside the closet. "Excuse me? Is anyone there? I seem to have apparated into a closet of some sort, and I have dropped my wand. Can someone let me out?"

Jacob stared at the closet with a look of horror on his face.

"Excuse me?" called the voice again. "Anyone there?"

"Um, yeah," answered Jacob. "Here, um, I'll help you out... of, er, my closet..."

Jacob hesitatingly went towards the closet door. He turned the handle. He opened it.

There was a man inside with dark blue robes on fumbling to put on a hat.

"Thank you so much. How embarrassing. To apparate into a closet! I haven't done that in years! And then the drop my wand as well! Oh dear me." The man went on talking as he bent down to pick up his wand.

"Um, excuse me, er, sir," interrupted Jacob, "But, um, you're standing in our closet... and, um, you're holding a stick... er, and you're wearing a dress... Do you need help?"

The man looked at Jacob with wide eyes. He stepped out of the closet, drew himself up properly, and looked at Jacob sternly.

"My name is Caleb Madion. I work for the Toronto School of Magic. And now, if I could speak to the mother of Natalie Webster, I would be much appreciated."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. _Definitely insane_, he thought to himself. "Um, why don't you take a seat in the kitchen."

Jacob led the man downstairs to the kitchen.

"Oh, Jacob, I was wondering if you could--" Mary, Jacob's sister, stopped short when she saw the man Jacob had brought down.

The rest of the family was looking at Jacob in surprise.

"Um, ah, this is... um, well, a guy... and, ah, he's from our closet, and..." Jacob stumbled. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and mouthed to his sister "crazy".

The family stared in shock at the man standing behind and slightly to the left of Jacob.

The man stepped forward. "Hello. My name is Caleb Madion. I am from the Toronto School of Magic and I'm here to talk to Natalie Webster and her family."

There was silence.

Mr. Madion sighed. "I know you are all probably confused. Let me try to explain. Natalie has shown signs of magic strong enough to be considered wizarding levels. As I understand, the Webster's and the Cooke's are both families with high amounts of magic, for muggles, at least. The marriage of Mary Cooke and Henry Webster produced a child with bloodlines of two very magical families, and therefore she holds a high amount of ability within her. High enough to be considered a witch."

The silence was broken by an outburst from Mary.

"How dare you come into our house and call my daughter a witch!" interrupted Mary. "You, sir, need help. Talking about magic... and what were you _doing_ in our closet? I am going to call the police right now."

Mr. Madion sighed. Apparently, he was used to this. "Mrs. Webster, will you please just sit down and listen? Your daughter has a gift, and she is being admitted into one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Just hear me out?"

The rest of the family was quiet. Mary turned sharply. He sounded rational, but what he was saying didn't. "You broke into my home and are trying to convince me that there are such things as magic and witches. I'm calling the police."

"There are wizards, too, but I won't get technical." Mr. Madion pulled out his stick from his pocket.

Jacob stared at the man, and what he was saying sounded vaguely familiar.

"Wait!" called Jacob. Mary was just about to dial the phone. "Wait. I think this man may be telling the truth."

"Jacob!" said Mary. "What are you saying?"

"Look, Mary, I've heard something like this before. James -- you know James -- he said something like this a few months ago. I think we should listen to Mr. Madion."

Mary slowly put down the phone. "I don't know..."

"The guy doesn't look like a serial killer..." pointed out Jacob.

"Well," conceded Mary, much against her better judgment. "Just because you say so, _and_ he seems to be harmless."

Mary walked back to the table.

"Thank you," said Mr. Madion, bowing slightly. "Now, as I was saying, there are three private schools of magic in Canada. An all-girls school in Quebec, an all-boys school in Vancouver, and a coed school in Toronto. Natalie has been accepted to the Toronto school. You may, of course, send her to a public magic school, but the private schools are the best for new witches and wizards. The Toronto School of Magic is a private boarding school. I think Natalie will be most happy there."

Henry, Mary's husband, stood up. "Okay, let's say you're telling the truth. Would you mind showing us some of your 'magic'?"

"Certainly." Mr. Madion pulled out his wand and changed a near by chair into a pig.

There was silence while the family stared, mouths agape, at what used to be a chair.

"Well, that tells us something," said Jacob.

"Um, sir?" asked Natalie timidly, speaking for the first time since Mr. Madion showed up. "Do you think you can turn that pig back into our chair?"

"Of course, Miss Webster." Mr. Madion transfigured the pig back to its former state. "So, what do you say, Miss Webster, would you like to come to our school?"

"Oh yes!" Natalie answered warmly. "You know, I've always thought things had gone well for me. Like the time where I went outside at night when it was snowing, but I didn't feel cold at all. I had gotten lost, but I never got cold. Like a warm blanket was wrapped around me."

Mary finally spoke up. "Um, Mr. Madion? Will you give us a while to discuss this?"

"Of course. I'll leave my owl with you and you can send a message back with her. Just tie a note to her leg."

"Er, okay, if that's what you want."

Mr. Madion smiled. Then, with a pop, he apparated away, much to the surprise of the family.

Minutes later, an owl flew through the open window into the house and settled on the back of the chair that had one been a pig.

"That was eventful," said Henry.

"I think he's nuts," spoke up Jacob's mother, Mrs. Cooke.

"All that rubbish about magic and stuff," said Mr. Cooke. "And wearing a dress... not healthy, that man is."

"Still," continued Mrs. Cooke, "I remember my grandmother always talking about magic. We always dismissed her for senile, but now I think she might have been right."

"Well," said Henry, "It sounds as if we have no choice but to send Natalie there. I mean, if she does posses this... magic... then we certainly can't stop her from knowing about her own... abilities."

"I'd have to agree with you, dear." Mary looked to her daughter. "Well, Natalie? Do you want to go to this new school?"

Natalie took a deep breath. "I want to go. I have always felt something inside me. Like that time in the snow."

"We were worried sick about you!" said Mary.

"Yes, but I was all right. I was safe. Remember how the doctor said I had no signed of cold anywhere? And I had spent the entire night in freezing weather? There _is_ something special about me, and I think this school will be good for me."

"You will not be going to your new school for 6th grade, you know."

"I know, mummy, but it works out. Since I was going to the new school for sixth grade, away from my friends, why not just change which new school I go to? It'll be exactly the same, mummy!" Natalie fell deep in thought. "Well, except for the boarding school part. Oh, but I do want to go!"

Mary smiled gently at her daughter. "Do you think you can go to the boarding school? And not see your family for a long time?"

Natalie thought about this for a moment. "Yes," she concluded, "I think I can, if it's to learn magic."

"Then I think it will be a good experience. I, for one, never knew there were magic schools." Mary gave her daughter a hug. "You seem awfully mature about this."

Natalie giggled. "Mummy..."

"Well, it's set then," said Henry. "Shall I write the note?"

"Um, sure. Good idea... I don't really want to try and attach the message to that owl," said Mary. "Who ever heard of using an owl to deliver notes? Pigeons, maybe, and that was fifty years ago. But never owls."

As soon as Henry had successfully put the note on the owl's leg, the bird flew back out the window and away.

Not more than an hour and a half later, Mr. Madion apparated back into the kitchen, causing Mary to scream.

The family came running from the various places they had been to see what the matter was.

"As nice as it was for you call everyone together, I don't think screaming was the right way to do it," said Mr. Madion gently.

"_Must_ you pop in and out like that?" asked Mary angrily.

"Unless you want me to come through the fireplace... no," answered Mr. Madion cheerfully. "Well, I have received your answer, Miss Webster, and I am very pleased to hear that it is in the positive. We are excited to have you as a student."

"Thank you for having me, " said Natalie quietly.

"Of course, dear. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Webster, do you and your daughter have any plans for today?"

"Um, I don't think so," answered Mary.

"Excellent. We have a new wizards and witches meeting today, but if you are busy you can catch the next one a week from today."

"I think today can work."

"Good. This is just a preliminary seminar for students new to the school and who are also new to the concept of magic. It will give you a look around the school, tell you about the classes Natalie will be taking, and will tell you good areas in town to buy supplies. You'll also be meeting other people who are in the same situation as you. About eight families, I think."

"Sounds good," said Henry, "But isn't the school in Toronto?"

"Yes," said Mr. Madion, "And I have taken the liberty to bring along a Portkey to take us there. It will get us to Toronto in seconds."

"Oh."

"Natalie, can you get changed into something nice?" asked Mary.

"Sure thing," said Natalie, running upstairs.

"And Mom and Dad?" said Mary. "We'll be back soon."

"By eight o'clock, at the latest," supplied Mr. Madion.

"We'll watch the house for you, dear," said Mrs. Cooke.

"Thanks Mom."

Natalie bounded down the stairs. "All ready!"

"Good. Ready to go?" asked Mr. Madion.

Natalie, Mary, and Henry all nodded.

Mr. Madion pulled out a book from his pocket. "Everyone hold onto a piece of the book. Here we go."

"Bye Gramma! Bye Grampa! Bye Uncle Jacob!" shouted Natalie.

Jacob and Mr. and Mrs. Cooke all waved.

Mary was looking at the book with a skeptical expression.

Henry looked sick.

Mr. Madion pulled out his wand and said a spell.

And Mary, Henry, Natalie, and Mr. Madion were gone.

----------------

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	19. Boredom and History Lessions

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?

**Author's note:** :wheeze: I think-- :gasp, wheeze: I'm-- :cough: failing-- :choke, gasp: miserably-- :deep breath: at this game. :drinks water to calm self from trying to get update up faster: Yeah, once again, I am sorry for how late this is. I'm _really_ trying not to make a habit of this. And never fear, I _will_ finish this fic (and if I don't, you know I either died or moved to the south pole and don't have an internet connection... but seeing as I hate being cold and would never _ever_ move to the south pole anyway, the latter can be ruled out). Anyhoo, I'll stop rambling and let you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 19: Boredom and History Lessons

----------------

James was bored. There was no one around.

Jacob was on the other side of Calgary. Emma was in San Francisco. Sarah and Peter were hiking together on a day-long date.

James was alone in his apartment, sitting on the couch, staring at the spot on the wall where the TV had been. He had yet to replace it.

James sighed.

Luis paused from his bathing to look back at James in pity.

"I know," said James wearily, "I'm pathetic. I've been sitting here for the last hour and a half. I should really get my lazy butt up a _do_ something. I don't know. I just feel... tired. I mean, everyone I know seems to be with someone. Jacob and Emma with their families. Sarah and Peter together. Even my friends from work are on vacations with their families."

James thought a moment.

"I guess I feel... left out. I don't have a family or even a girlfriend. Well, I guess Peter and his family are my family, but you know what I mean... I don't have any blood family. People I can rely on and with whom I can spend my entire life with. I mean, what's to stop Peter or Emma or Sarah or Jacob to move away and only promise to send a postcard every so often, under the false assumption that we can stay close friends when it will really take hours to go see each other."

James gave another sigh.

"And what's to stop me from moving away from them?" he asked quietly.

Luis evidently thought his washing more important that James' current boredom and sadness.

James rolled his eyes. "This is stupid. Not even my cat cares about what I have to say. And now I've resorted to talking to myself, which really only proves the cat's point by emphasizing how boring I am. I'm bored and I'm boring my self further by saying boring things." James slapped himself on the head. "Pathetic..."

The telephone rang out shrilling in the otherwise still air.

Luis stopped washing and ran under the couch.

James jumped up and answered the phone, thankful for something mildly distracting.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm calling from Calgary Insurance and I was wondering--"

"Not interested." James said flatly.

"Well okay. Thank you for your time."

_Click_.

"Sales people... how do they get my number?" wondered James aloud.

Having nothing else to do, James sat down and decided to write a letter to the Westins telling them about England.

He pulled out a pen and some paper from a drawer and began to write.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Westin,_

_ Good news. I'm going to London. No exact dates yet, but we'll be there for Christmas. I am really looking forward to seeing you two!_

_ I hope everything over there is going well and that business is still good. Things are exciting over here._ James mentally noted that that statement was incorrect when speaking about the present situation, but in the scheme of things he decided it didn't matter. _Emma and Jacob are getting married on Sunday, in three days. They'll be back tomorrow from visiting family, and then I'm sure the real chaos will begin._

_ Anyway, I can't wait to see you in London and I hope you two are doing fine._

_ Love, Harry_

James smiled to himself as his looked at the scrawling writing of his name. His _first_ name.

The Westins had agreed to start calling him James, but James himself always signed his letters to them as "Harry". It was one of the few pleasures having to do with his past that James enjoyed wholeheartedly. He felt a cold delight at seeing his name sitting peacefully on the paper. It was as if he had put a small piece of himself on to that paper, a secret that he held. That sense was incredibly different than the one he felt when he saw his real last name, which only caused a strong sense of fear and anxiety in James. Somehow, seeing his first name gave him a sense of calmness. There was a consistency and truth to it, as if by writing his name he proved to himself that he was real, and would never fade.

James reluctantly folded the paper and put it into an envelope. He sealed the envelope closed and wrote the Westin's address on it.

He grabbed his keys and took the letter down the mailbox in the lobby of the building. And in no time, his was back in his apartment, staring at the wall.

Only this time, instead of being bored, James contemplated his first name, and took an almost childish pleasure in knowing that it was _his_ name, and no one else could take it away.

And, little to his knowledge, it was just across town where his name was also being contemplated with a childish pleasure.

----------------

Jacob awoke the next morning to the sound of giggling and shouting. He blearily opened his eyes and saw his room, now flooded with the late morning sun.

It was 10:00, and the noise was coming from Natalie's room. Jacob got up and pulled on some clothes before quickly combing his hair and heading towards Natalie's room to find out what all the excitement was about.

Jacob bumped into Marry in the hallway.

"Oh, Jacob, I was just about to wake you," said Mary. "We have some company. It turns out that there is another family just down the street who also has a son who is new to magic. His name is Elliot Grahm. He's a sweet kid. We met his parents last night and invited them over for brunch. They're in the same position as us; they had never heard of magic either."

"Wow, that's lucky," commented Jacob.

"Yeah," answered Mary absently. "Anyway, can you put on a nicer shirt and then come down and join us? Thanks." She didn't wait for an answer.

Jacob shrugged. He turned around and went back to his room, coming out with a "nicer" shirt on. He stopped by Natalie's room to say hi before going downstairs.

He knocked on her door. He could hear muffled shouts and rapid talking.

"Um, Nat? Could I come in?" asked Jacob.

"Sure!" she said, and the door was opened.

Jacob came in as Natalie skipped back to her spot on the floor.

Natalie gestured to the boy who was lying on his stomach looking up at Jacob. "This is Elliot. Elliot, this is my Uncle Jacob."

Elliot hurriedly stood up.

"Nice to meet you, Elliot," said Jacob kindly.

Elliot shook Jacob's hand seriously. "And you too, Mr...?"

Jacob chuckled a bit. "'Mr. Cooke is fine."

"Nice to meet you." Elliot resumed his former position.

Jacob sat down next to his niece. "So, what are you to up to?"

"We're reading our new text books!" said Natalie enthusiastically.

"In other words, we're being nerds," Elliot said wryly.

"What was all the noise for, then?" asked Jacob.

"We're learning history!" Natalie explained. "And we were arguing over who's better. But I'm right. Draco Malfoy's the best!"

"No way," answered Elliot. "Harry is the best. He is the coolest by _far_."

"How can you say that?" asked Natalie hotly. "Draco gave his _life_ up for the woman he loved! And they were on opposite sides to start with, like star-crossed lovers, or something. And he was always so calm. I bet nobody could make him do anything, except Ginny, of course."

"So what? Who wants all that mushy stuff? Harry marched straight into battle, and he _always_ won. He almost killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was just a _baby_. And it was him who finally killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Oh, _and_ he has more power that anyone in the past _century_. He has enough power to raise whole cemeteries with just a flick of his _little finger_."

There was a pause and Jacob thought it might be a good time to ask what this was all about.

"Um, guys?" he asked. "What's all this about, anyway? Who are these people?"

"I can tell you all about it!" said Natalie before Elliot could say a thing. "You see, it goes like this." Natalie took a deep breath, glanced at Elliot, and shouted, "Draco rules! I win! I get last word! You lose! Ha-ha ha ha!"

Elliot sighed while Natalie did a victory dance around the room.

"Well," explained Elliot, once Natalie had calmed down, "When we were at the meeting for new wizards and witches yesterday, the headmaster of the school explained to us very seriously about the recent history of the wizarding world. And me and Natalie were so interested that we read more about the War in our history book."

"There was a war?" asked Jacob skeptically.

"Oh yes," said Natalie, nodding gravely. "It was a really big war. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" asked Jacob.

"Yeah," answered Natalie, "People are so afraid of him, and he caused so much death and sadness, that people don't say his name. Neither me nor Elliot know his real name. Anyway, he had taken over almost all of Britain (that's where the war started), seized France, Germany, and Spain, and most of Russia. In fact, I think he had most of Europe. And he already had half of Asia was going for America."

Natalie pointed to a picture in her text book. "You see where all the black armies are? That's the area He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in. The places with the explosions and bright lights are where major battles were fought. And do you see the areas with the armies dressed in white? That's the good side."

"Would you look at that," said Jacob quietly. "The pictures move."

"I think all books should be like that," said Natalie.

"Anyway," continued Elliot, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the leader of the bad side, and his main goal was to rid the earth of muggles."

Jacob raised an eyebrow.

"Muggles are people who can't do magic," Elliot explained. "And he wanted to get rid of wizards and witches with muggle blood in them and all muggle-loving wizards and witches. He wanted a pure race, or something like that. He had a high level of magic, and there was only one other major person on the good side who was equal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That person was Dumbledore, and he was the leader of the good side. But he was also really old. That's were Harry and Draco come in."

"And Draco is the best," cut in Natalie.

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Draco's father was a Death Eater, someone who supported He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But Draco broke away from his father and joined the good side. He and Harry became best friends and they fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named side by side. Harry was already famous to begin with. When he was a baby, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was just beginning to gain power, and he had come to kill Harry. He killed both of Harry's parents, but when he tried to kill Harry, something happened, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanished. The wizarding world was so happy, and Harry became famous before he turned two for getting rid of the most evil wizard ever."

"Wow, that's a lot of weight to bear," commented Jacob.

"Especially because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't really dead. Harry fought a lot of other battles with him, and won most of them. Anyway, Draco fell in love with a girl, Ginny, and married her. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named started taking hostages, to try and get Harry to fight him. I guess Harry finally confronted him, but the book doesn't say much. Not much is known about the last battle, except that the good side won, and Harry had killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But some of the older boarding school students who grew up knowing magic told us about the last battle at the meeting. It's like a legend, or something, but nobody knows if it is really true."

"I'll tell it!" interrupted Natalie. "Draco was taken hostage, among hundreds of others. He was the first from the hostages forced to choose whether he was going to join the dark side or die. He said he'd rather die, and the last thing he thought of was how much he loved Ginny. That is totally the sweetest story ever. I want to marry a guy like that."

"No more gross stuff. The cool part is that Harry became super powerful, the most powerful wizard in _centuries_, and I mean _centuries_."

Elliot paused for effect.

"And with all this power," he continued, "He completely killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the most evil man ever, I think. The whole war was the bloodiest war ever fought. It was fought throughout several continents. And it was Harry who stopped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, single handedly. And get this, Harry Potter is now a name that is used _everywhere_. He is the better than Draco, hands down."

"Wait, what was his full name?" asked Jacob.

"Who? Harry?" asked Elliot.

"Yeah."

"Harry James Potter. See?" Elliot pointed to the text book. "It says right there. 'Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, made He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanish at age 1.'"

"And he was the most powerful wizard?"

"In about three centuries. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," answered Jacob casually. "I think I have to agree with you though, Harry sounds more exciting than Draco."

Natalie stuck her tongue out at Jacob while Elliot gloated.

"I think I'm going downstairs, now," said Jacob. "See you two later."

Natalie and Elliot didn't even hear Jacob. They were once again arguing playfully.

Jacob headed downstairs to meet Elliot's parents. Jacob acted pleasantly enough, but he found that he was quite distracted throughout the entire brunch.

He was just too busy contemplating whether his good friend James just might have been speaking the truth, late that night, two months ago.

----------------

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	20. Wedding Dresses and Second Chances

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?

**Author's note:** This is a logical explanation for this. I was not focusing on my work so I told myself that I could not use the computer except for important e-mail until the New Year. It was supposed to remove distraction, which it did, but I cheated slightly and wrote more of this story down on paper. So all I had to do was type it up, and now it is posted (and good news, I am more focused and on top of my work). Not like most people care this much about my personal life, but I'm just giving you all a heads up. (And no, I did not die or move to Antarctica, although I was worried some of you might think so).

Chapter 20: Wedding Dresses and Second Chances

----------------

The day was bright and filled with anticipation. The wedding had been planned meticulously, and every detail was in order.

It was around noon, and white tents were set up on the lawn that was behind the Burrow. Tables were being set up underneath the tents, for the reception later that night.

The wedding itself was going to be on the lawn, as well. A separate tent had been set up for that, and chairs were currently being placed there for the guests to sit in accordingly.

The bride herself was in Diagon Alley with the bridesmaids getting her nails and hair done. Ginny, Angelina, Hermione, and Daniel's sisters Melissa and Rachel, were sitting together in the Pink Bludger ("Want to be a knock out? Let us make you beautiful!") talking amiably.

A hairdresser was hovering over Ginny, mixing spells and flicking her wand as Ginny's hair was whisked into different styles.

"I can't believe you're getting married!" said Hermione, who was getting her nails painted with the bottom coat of nail-strengthening potion.

"You can't believe it?" asked Ginny. "How do you think I feel? I never thought I'd be going up to the alter again."

There was a short silence, broken by Rachel, who was choosing a color for her toes.

"Stop there, I think I like that color," she said to the witch giving her a pedicure. The witch stopped saying color spells and started applying the topcoat of color-retaining potion.

Angelina spoke up suddenly to the witch doing Ginny's hair. "Can you go back to that last style you had?"

With a flick of her wand, the witch formed Ginny's red hair back into a half bun with the other half of the hair still down and wavy, with a single stand curling in the front.

"Yes, that one," said Angelina, "It looks gorgeous on you, Ginny. What do you guys think?"

The other women looked up and nodded in agreement.

"It would go well with your dress," said Hermione.

"And there will be room for your veil with that style," said Rachel.

"It shows off that wonderful red hair of yours, too," added Melissa.

Ginny smiled. "Okay, you guys have convinced me. I'll go with this, please," said Ginny addressing the witch in charge of her hair.

Ginny's hair fell out of the style and the witch started creating the style with her hands. Magic was only good for trying out different styles to see how they would look. But to keep a certain hairdo, it had to be done by hand, using the normal rubber bands and hairpins to hold it up.

The women continued to talk cheerfully until it was time to go. They each apparated back to where they were staying, Melissa and Rachel to their hotel, Angelina and Hermione to their houses, and Ginny to the Burrow, and wished Ginny good luck and that they would see her at the ceremony.

As soon as Ginny reached the Burrow, her mother ushered Ginny upstairs.

"Don't you look lovely!" commented Mrs. Weasley, once she had closed the door to Ginny's room tightly.

"Mum, was pushing me up the stairs that fast necessary?" Ginny was rubbing her foot where she had tripped on the staircase.

"Wouldn't want the groom to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered.

"But mum, Daniel's not here. He's probably at the hotel getting ready."

"You never know," said Mrs. Weasley, looking suspiciously around her, "Grooms are sneaky people."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, attributing the odd comment to her mother's odd personality.

Mrs. Weasley was already dressed and prepared. She was going to give Ginny away in the wedding since Mr. Weasley was gone.

"Now, there's only an hour and a half until the wedding ceremony, and an hour until the guests start coming. You must start getting dressed and putting on you makeup."

Ginny saluted her mom with a quiet "Yes ma'm", but Mrs. Weasley took no notice.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley jumped slightly, and then went cautiously over to the door and opened it slowly.

"May we come in?" asked someone in an excited whisper.

"Do you have any men with you?" asked Mrs. Weasley, much in the way a guard might ask for a password.

There were giggles.

"Of course not," answered another voice.

Mrs. Weasley gave a loud sigh. "I guess so."

Penelope, Brook (friend from work), and Kate (Bill's wife) burst into the room.

The three women were dressed and had come over early to help Ginny get ready.

"Wow, so you're getting married," commented Penelope.

Brook held Ginny's hand and examined her nails. "Your hair and nails look great; the Pink Bludger did a good job."

Kate ran over to the closet, searched for a few seconds, and pulled out a wedding dress from the back of the closet. "Is this the dress? It's gorgeous!" Kate held it in front of her and twirled around.

Brook came up and looked at the dress. "This is a beautiful dress, Ginny," she said gently touching the sleeves.

Ginny stood stock still as Penelope came up slowly to examine the dress. "This dress looks familiar, doesn't it?"

"It does," agreed Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny, that's not your new dress. Where's your new dress?"

Kate stopped twirling.

Brook pulled her hand away as if the dress was made of hot coals.

Penelope adopted an extremely apologetic and guilty expression in a surprisingly short amount of time.

"I know that's not my new dress, mother," said Ginny quietly. "My new dress is hanging on the corner of my bed." She gestured towards the back of the bed, where a white wedding dress hung near the wall.

The dress in Kate's hands was back in the closet faster than Ginny could blink and the girls were on the other side of the room in a flash, exclaiming over the new dress in oddly loud voices and forced laughs.

Ginny sat on her bed and stared at the closet doors.

The girls' voices quieted down as they noticed Ginny was quiet.

"Come on, Gin," said Penelope quietly, sitting down next to her. "We didn't mean anything. It was a mistake, that's all."

"Yes, a mistake," agreed Brook.

"And I'm terribly sorry, Ginny," said Kate.

"No, it's okay," said Ginny slowly. She took a shaky breath. "I'm fine. Just nervous about getting married, I suppose." Ginny forced a smile. "Here mum, help me get into this thing."

Mrs. Weasley took the new wedding dress down from the hanger and all the women helped pull the elaborate dress over the slip Ginny was wearing and helped button the buttons.

The rest of that hour was spent well, with the girls and Mrs. Weasley helping Ginny do her make up and other touch ups. The only thing unusual was the nervous glances the girls gave Ginny and Ginny's forced smiles.

Soon the guests were arriving. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and the three girls were staring out the window, watching the people filter in for the wedding. There were charms up around the outside to prevent anyone who did not have an invitation from getting into the yard. It was pretty big news that the wife of Draco Malfoy was getting remarried, so naturally lots of people had come by hoping to gain entry.

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley shrieked and covered Ginny's eyes.

"Here comes the groom!" she cried.

"Mum," groaned Ginny, "This isn't necessary!"

"It's bad luck to see the groom before the ceremony, and I want your wedding to be perfect."

Brook, Penelope, and Kate laughed and the annoyed look Ginny shot at her mother when Mrs. Weasley forced Ginny into a corner and made her face the wall.

Penelope, Brook, and Kate soon went down first to get their seats.

And then, after a very long time, Mrs. Weasley decreed that it was safe enough for Ginny to go down and wait in the procession line. They arrived downstairs just as the groom made it to the altar.

Ginny looked around. Guests were sitting in the chairs on the lawn, watching the bridesmaids come out with the best men. The chairs the left of the aisle were for the Bollis family and friends, and to the right sat the Weasley family and friends. There was a semi-transparent white tent over the chairs and altar that let in the last dying sun of twilight. Small candles were set up in different locations to provide flickering light for the ceremony. The altar had flowers everywhere and of every color, pink and orange and yellow and purple. And up ahead, standing the right, was Ginny's future husband. She could see him with his black tuxedo on and his head of blond hair.

Ginny heard the familiar music pipe up for the bride to come down the aisle. Mrs. Weasley hooked arms with her daughter and started to lead Ginny down the aisle. Ginny followed as if in a trance.

She looked at the people staring at her. Everything felt just as it did at her first wedding. Ginny's eyes started to water and she got a stinging pain in the back of her throat.

She snapped her eyes up to the man she was about to marry. He looked so handsome. The black suit he wore and the golden head of hair he bore made him seem the almost perfect person she could marry. This scene in front of her brought her back years and years, and she could only think of one person, now gone.

Then she was at the altar and her mother had unhooked arms and sat down in the first row on the Weasley side, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

Ginny heard nothing of what was said at the altar, until Daniel took her hand and was prompted to promise love for Ginny until death.

"I, Daniel Bollis, take you, Ginny Weasley, for my lawful wife..."

Ginny closed her eyes, listening to the man next to her speak those words, which caused the lump in the back of her throat to grow.

"To have and to hold, from this day forward..."

His hand was thin and his fingers long. The hand that held hers was almost the same as the one that had comforted her when her father had been missing.

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer..."

His voice sounded so familiar and just like the one she heard and loved back in her sixth year.

"In sickness and in health, until death do us part."

Ginny opened her eyes.

The priest prompted her to say her part.

Ginny looked deep in the pale eyes of the man she was about to marry.

"I, Ginny Weasley, take you, Draco Malfoy, for my lawful husb--"

She stopped as she heard the crowd give a gasp and as Daniel dropped her hand.

She looked around, confused, until she realized. _Daniel_. _I'm marrying Daniel_.

The tears that Ginny had quietly been fighting throughout the day burst forth. She ran from the altar, down the aisle, and into the house.

She could see a wave of concerned people coming after her, with Daniel in the lead, but all she could think about was Draco.

She was gone from the Burrow before she realized it. And before she looked to see where she had apparated to, she knew.

Ginny was in the cemetery devoted to the war heroes. Crying, she made her way to the corner of the area, a path she knew well.

She came to a humble grave, a clean grave, with small orange flowers blooming at the base of the tombstone.

It was a grave visited by many people, but by no one more than Ginny. After his death, most everyone had wanted a lavish, large monument to Draco's greatness. But Ginny had insisted on this. She knew that Draco would not want giant monuments to him, but only something simple. As he had once said, he never wanted to be good, he just didn't support the Dark Lord and didn't want to get stuck in the middle. She had chosen the inscription for the grave, which read, "_To the man who didn't want to get stuck in the middle: I love you more than anything, past, present, and future_."

Ginny dropped to the ground in front of Draco's grave. And she just sat there, one arm thrown on top of the stone, the other arm bent and her head resting on it, sobbing.

"Please forgive me," she whispered. "I try to forget, but I can't. Please forgive me."

Night was coming on, and it was relatively warm outside. Ginny fell asleep, exhausted from the day and from crying.

She did not sleep soundly at first, though.

Flashbacks played over and over in her mind. The happiness the couple had shared together. Their wedding. News of Draco's death.

And then, Draco was sitting in front of her, on his own gravestone.

"Come on, Gin," he said. "Don't be so melancholy. It makes me upset to see you upset. And you don't want that, do you?"

Ginny looked up, surprised, and tearfully shook her head no.

"Come here, beautiful," said Draco sympathetically. He wrapped Ginny in a warm embrace.

"I know you miss me," he whispered in her ear. "And we'll be together again. You know that. But you must try to be happy."

"It's so hard," Ginny said, a tear falling down her cheek and on to Draco's shoulder. "I want you back so badly." She hugged Draco tighter.

Draco gently lifted Ginny off his shoulder so he could look into her eyes. "My life was a life well spent. I would rather have died a thousand more painful times than lived a life different from the one I had." He wiped a tear from Ginny's cheek. "Not only did I gain a best friend, but I fell in love and married you. You and Harry made my life worth everything, Ginny."

Ginny sighed sadly.

"Gin, darling, do you love this man Daniel?"

Ginny faltered. She could not lie to Draco. "I-- I don't know. I don't even think I really know him. All I could ever do was compare him to you, and see only the reasons why you were better."

"I've seen his soul, and he is a good man. He loves you, but he also knows he comes in second on your list. Ginny, I want you to know that it is possible to love two people, and I want you to marry someone if they will make you happy."

"So you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? For what, Gin?"

"Forgive me for ever loving someone else."

"Of course. All I want is your happiness. How would it look if my wife were miserable over my death for her entire life? I'd get laughed at for the rest of my afterlife for marrying such a foolish lady, and you don't want your dear husband to be laughed at for eternity, do you?"

Ginny wiped her eyes and gave a small laugh. "I don't think your ego would allow it, darling."

Draco hugged Ginny again.

"I love you so much, Gin."

"I love you too, Draco."

"And remember, all I want is your happiness. I give you every blessing I have to marry whom you want. I forgive you."

Ginny felt happy and slept peacefully for the rest of the night. She woke in the morning and sat contentedly with her back against the gravestone.

"He forgives me," she whispered aloud.

A breeze blew through the cemetery, confirming her thoughts.

Ginny stood up and faced the gravestone. "I love you with all my heart, Draco. Don't forget that. And thank you for everything."

Ginny gave one last serene glance at the stone, and the apparated back home.

The Burrow was in complete disarray. People had torn the house apart looking for Ginny, comforting Mrs. Weasley, and causing mayhem in general.

"Mum? Percy? Anyone awake?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"Ginny?" came a voice.

Ginny jumped as Daniel seemingly popped up out of the couch.

"You're home," observed Daniel, who was still in his tuxedo. "Are you okay?"

"The better question is, how can you can you look at me after what I've done?"

"Oh, Ginny, it's understandable. I know you loved him very much, and that is why I want to tell you that if you do not want me in your life, I'm okay with it."

"No, Daniel, I--"

"Ginny, I stayed here only to tell you this: I'm sorry if I forced this marriage upon you. Good bye, Ginny."

Daniel grabbed his wand and was about to apparate.

Ginny spoke. "Daniel, I like you a lot."

Daniel stopped what he was doing. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I do. And, though I don't want to marry you at this moment, I would love to get to know you more and then possibly consider marriage."

"Get to know me?"

"Yes, because I've realized that all I've ever done is compared you to Draco. I don't want to marry a person just because he reminds me of someone. I want to marry a person because I love him."

Ginny waited for Daniel to be upset, or disappointed, or even indifferent. But what happened surprised her.

"Ginny," said Daniel happily, "I think that is a brilliant idea. I've felt like I could never talk to you about anything that took place more than five years ago, for fear of offending you. And I've noticed that you often look at me as if I were someone else, and not Daniel. To hear you say that you want to get to know me is the best idea I've heard in a very long time."

Ginny stood quietly thinking. This proved that she really didn't know Daniel very well. She had never thought that he would react like this, that he would not be mad at her. This unexpected reaction was the first step towards learning more about Daniel, because she was finally treating him like a person and not a memory.

"Ginny?" asked Daniel, "Something wrong?"

"No," said Ginny, smiling warmly, "I was just thinking that we could use our honeymoon vacation as a normal vacation to spend together, just you and me."

"You are a brilliant person," said Daniel, hugging Ginny softly. "And I think I am beginning to love you."

"And I, you." Ginny sent a silent prayer to Draco, telling him not to worry about ridicule; she was happy.

----------------

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	21. Bathroom Confrontations and a Snake

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?

**Author's note:** This is a logical explanation for this. I was not focusing on my work so I told myself that I could not use the computer except for important e-mail until the New Year. It was supposed to remove distraction, which it did, but I cheated slightly and wrote more of this story down on paper. So all I had to do was type it up, and now it is posted (and good news, I am more focused and on top of my work). Not like most people care this much about my personal life, but I'm just giving you all a heads up. (And no, I did not die or move to Antarctica, although I was worried some of you might think so).

Chapter 21: Bathroom Confrontations and a Snake

----------------

Jacob was nervous. And with good reason. He had decided to tell James about Natalie getting into Toronto School of Magic. He reasoned that right before his wedding was the best time to tell James because James would have to show up at the wedding to preserve face, and therefore couldn't be too mad with Jacob (at least publicly). And Jacob was pretty sure James wouldn't get too mad at a man on his wedding day. Also, Jacob would be on a honeymoon with Emma for a while, so during that time James would have time to cool down, if he was angry. Jacob had the unfortunate case of receiving a good portion of James' anger once a year, and that was enough for him.

This plan sounded good in Jacob's mind, but somehow his stomach didn't agree.

But then again, that could be because he was about to get married.

Jacob ran over and over the game plan in his mind. All he would need to do was follow James into a private place, e.g. a corner, his car, anywhere quiet, and tell him. But Jacob couldn't figure out how to put the information to James.

He was angry with James for hiding all this. So he could make the subject a painful realization for James.

But then again, Jacob understood that James had tried to tell everyone about being a wizard, and no one had believed him. So maybe he would try to be sympathetic and let James know that he had someone to share the secret with.

But Jacob was still annoyed at James for being so secretive. Why didn't he try harder to persuade everyone? Why didn't he show magic?

Should he be bitter? Or sympathetic? Angry? Or understanding? Jacob was getting a headache from bouncing the choices around in his mind. He looked forward to just getting the whole thing over with.

Jacob and Emma were getting married in a park that often held weddings. The reception would be in the park as well. It would be a casual barbeque and picnic. Emma really didn't want a fancy wedding, so they had decided on this.

Jacob arrived at the park right when Emma, Sarah, and Henry arrived. Emma had chosen Sarah as her bridesmaid and Jacob had chosen his brother-in-law Henry as his best man.

Jacob had come wearing a simple black suit, and Emma came wearing a simple white dress that was cut neatly and fitted nicely. The other two were in nice clothes, a skirt and blouse for Sarah and a suit for Henry. The guests were requested to wear the same type of decent wear.

Emma's family had a close friend who was a photographer, and he had offered to take pictures for the wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Cooke had already arrived, and so had Emma's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. Mary and Natalie had come with Henry. Everyone who was in the wedding posed for pictures for about half an hour, until the guests started to arrive.

Peter was one of the first to get there.

"So, Jacob, you're leaving the bachelor life, eh?" he said cheerfully.

"I guess so," Jacob answered.

"And I get him all to myself!" cried Emma, giving Jacob a hug from behind.

After the photographer finished taking the last of his pictures, which were of Sarah and Henry, Sarah came over to say hello.

"Peter! Isn't it wonderful that Jacob and Emma are finally getting married?" she said enthusiastically. "Isn't it _wonderful_?"

"Nice to see you too, Sarah," answered Peter smiling. "And yes it is wonderful."

"I think she was trying to hint at something," whispered Emma loudly. "And I don't think you picked up on it."

Peter smiled rather sheepishly at Sarah and Emma giggled softly.

"Have any of you seen James?" asked Jacob, changing the subject.

"No, not really," answered Peter. "I really don't know where he could be."

A new group of guests came, and Jacob and Emma had to leave to greet them. Sarah and Peter took their seats on the open lawn and talked amiably.

It was a while before Jacob saw James arrive. James gave a quick friendly wave to Jacob and Emma, and, seeing that they were detained with relatives, he walked over to where Peter and Sarah were talking. Jacob could see him chatting and laughing, and then watched as he excused himself and headed for the bathrooms that were located in a small building close by.

"Excuse me, Uncle Lou, but I'm just going to make one last trip to the men's room," Jacob said.

"Don't want to have to go during the ceremony, that's for sure!" The uncle gave a brisk laugh and then turned to talk to Emma.

Jacob headed for the bathroom, nodding at the people saying hello to him, stopping for a quick chat if necessary, but always headed forward towards the building.

Jacob pressed his ear to the door to make sure someone was in there (hopefully James, if he had guessed correctly). There was a little over half an hour before the ceremony started, which gave Jacob plenty of time to talk to James and still greet several guests.

He heard some movement coming from inside, the sound of hands washing. Sensing that there was very little time before James would come out, Jacob took a deep breath and opened the door.

"James! Fancy meeting you here," Jacob said happily, upon seeing that it was indeed James in the bathroom, and only James.

"How are you doing?" asked James.

"Oh fine. I saw you arrive."

"Yeah. I just waved because I saw you were rather preoccupied."

"Relatives. You know the type," explained Jacob casually.

There was quiet pause as James tried to figure out if he really did know "the type" (the word "relatives" to him did not usually recall happy memories), and as Jacob realized that he had read somewhere that Harry Potter had only an unfriendly aunt, uncle, and cousin, and would in actuality not know "the type."

_Ah_, thought Jacob, on considering the relatives point, _Here__ is the perfect spot to start the conversation_.

"But you wouldn't have that many relatives, would you?" asked Jacob. "I mean, ones that you like."

James raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn't think it safe to say anything.

"It's not an unknown fact," persisted Jacob.

"Jacob," said James, "It may be pre-wedding nerves, but you are not making much sense."

Jacob decided to start over.

"Didn't you say two months ago that your name was Harry Potter?"

James' eyes widened. "Yes," he answered slowly, "But I was lying, remember?"

"Yes, you were lying quite a lot," said James curtly.

James cocked his head as if in confusion and there was silence.

Oh yes, James knew what Jacob was heading towards. But he hoped that Jacob was merely bluffing and trying to guess what his past was, and didn't actually _know_. Besides, James did _not_ like the direction this conversation was headed, and being silent was the best way he knew to end an unwanted discussion.

Jacob was annoyed. James did not seem to pick up on any of the hints. _Oh well_, Jacob thought, _Might as well be blunt_.

"You know, Harry, my niece got into the Toronto School of Magic" Jacob said frankly.

James took a sharp intake. Why was Jacob using his first name? It didn't sound right. He used the name too casually, too familiarly.

"What did you call me?"

"Harry. Didn't you say that that was your first name?"

"Well, yes."

"And aren't you _surprised_ that my niece got into a school of _magic_?"

"Yes."

"Well, you don't sound it," said Jacob crisply, tired of James avoiding the subject.

James stood there quietly, annoying Jacob by the second with his silence. In truth, James was silently chiding himself for not looking more surprised at the "magic school" part than at the "Harry" part.

"Look," said Jacob finally, exasperated. "I know you're Harry Potter, and I just wanted to tell you that."

James gave a short laugh. "You mean, you know I'm Harry James Potterson. You accidentally said the name I made up."

"You must think I'm pretty dumb. I did not _accidentally_ say anything."

"Okay."

"I meant it when I said that I know you're Harry Potter."

"Okay."

"_Not_ Harry James Potterson."

"Okay."

"That's it? Okay? Would you please stop with the non-committal monosyllable answers? There getting on my nerves." Jacob felt that he had tried everything, and yet James wasn't reacting to the news. He was acting as if Jacob had told him that there was the weather was overcast.

James, although he tried very hard not to look like it, was frantic. Jacob knowing anything was definitely a bad position to be in. Still, James felt he could try one last time to throw Jacob off the scent. Even if Jacob somehow knew that there was a Harry Potter in the world, maybe he would doubt himself and think that he found the wrong person. James breathed in to calm himself.

"Frankly Jacob," said James, as coolly as possible, "I think you've gone slightly insane. You're remembering what I said a while ago, and it's confusing you."

"No," said Jacob loudly, "You're the one that's confused. I mean, come on! Even your fake name is a clear give away. Harry _Potter_ and Harry _Potterson_? I bet you even kept the same middle name!"

There was a pause during which Jacob took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then started speaking very slowly and clearly. "Look, Harry, my niece got into the Toronto School of Magic. She and her parents were informed of wizarding life at the school, which included a short discussion of recent wizarding history. Natalie was enthralled with the war stories and bought a book about it. She explained some of it to me, and then lent me the book to read. The book was about a war, in which a man named _Harry Potter_ played an important role. The book even gave a life history of the man Harry Potter, and stated that he was the most powerful wizard in centuries."

James had gone white, but nonetheless said, "Ah, but you see, you said he _was_ the most powerful. 'Was' implies that he is dead."

"No, Harry, he is not dead," Jacob said with a triumphant smile, "Because I am looking at him."

James stared at Jacob with what looked like fright. _This is not happening, this is not happening_, he thought to himself.

"You see, Harry," Jacob went on, "You yourself said two months ago that your name was Harry Potter and that you were the most powerful wizard in centuries. So I just used that knowledge to my advantage. Besides, the picture of Harry Potter in the book looked remarkable like a younger version of you, Harry."

"Would you please stop calling me that?"

"What, Harry?"

"Yes." James' teeth were clenched.

"Fine, but you are going to have to explain yourself."

"You seem to know enough about me already," said James bitterly.

Jacob took a deep breath. Then he said, gently, "Look, I just wanted you to know that I now believe you. And I didn't want it to be a surprise for you when I prove it to Sarah, Emma, and Peter."

James' mood rapidly changed. "What?" he asked, frightened now. "You're going to tell them? But you can't!"

"Why not? I thought you wanted them to know."

"Nobody can know if Natalie is attending a wizarding school."

"That's dumb."

"Hello?" asked James, "Why do you think I'm not public about having been a wizard?"

"Having been?" Jacob had not thought of this. How could one not be a wizard anymore?

"Yes, _having been_, meaning I'm _not_ anymore. And I'm not public about it because I don't want the wizarding world to know about me, being here."

"So you are _hiding_, from an entire _world_, in which you're _famous_ in? That is a rather ambitious thing to do."

"Which is exactly why you cannot tell anyone. Please, Jacob, _please_."

"But why? What are you hiding from?" Jacob was curious. James had such a look of despair on his face, and Jacob couldn't begin to fathom why. "You're famous. People adore you. Why would you hide from a life like that?"

"You wouldn't understand," said James.

"Try me."

James was silent. Did he really want to admit to Jacob, and himself, the reason why he left?

"C'mon, make it my wedding present," said Jacob gently. "I want to understand why you seem so frightened of all this."

James sunk to the ground with his back against the wall, feeling trapped and overwhelmed with the situation. He hung his head and spoke quietly. "Nothing good came out of me being there. Everybody I touched, talked to, and looked at somehow came into trouble because of me. Too many people died because of me. I can't go back. It hurts too much. And not just mentally, but physically too."

"It hurts?"

James raised his watery eyes to Jacob's. "Do you know how hard it is to control the amount of power within me? The last person who had this much power _died_ because of it. It takes so much effort to keep it from going haywire. And sometimes it takes over me, and I can't stop it, and it leaves me breathless and aching. And I can sense other people's magic, and what their intentions are. It's like reading people's minds. It's horrible. Every person sends out something different. It's like being in a room with thousands of people all talking at once to me. I even take pills to stop it. I cannot live with that amount of power."

"I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

James was silent from his spot on the floor.

"And you truly don't want your friends to know?" Jacob persisted.

"Not anymore. It's easier if they don't know. Please Jacob. You can't tell them. You just _can't_." James looked up with pleading eyes.

"You're just going to keep all this information hidden beneath that head of yours, just like that? Not care that your friends don't know anything of your younger life?"

James looked at the floor again. "Yes."

Jacob paused a moment, sighed, and said, "Fine. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Jacob. Thank you."

Jacob extended his hand and helped James up.

"Though I think you should tell them," said Jacob, patting James on the shoulder and straightening his coat.

James didn't answer.

Jacob suddenly felt guilty, when he saw James looking so defeated on what was supposed to be a happy day. "I'm sorry for all the trouble this has caused you, James, but I thank you for telling me the truth. And look at the bright side," Jacob continued, trying to liven things up, "You now have someone to talk to."

James stared at Jacob with a rather sad, skeptical expression.

"Okay, okay, so you wouldn't ever want to talk about it. I won't even ask any more questions, although I have a lot. I'll erase the event from my memory. See? I've already forgotten it." Jacob started to walk around the bathroom with staring eyes and with his hands out in front of him. "My memory is completely gone," he chanted monotonously. "I have no recollection of the last ten minutes." Then Jacob put his hand on his chest and looked shocked. "Magic? There's no such thing as magic. Why, _James_, whatever could have given you the crazy idea that there was magic in the world? You really ought to have you head examined."

James saw the guilty smile on Jacob's face and easily picked up on Jacob's attempts to cheer him up.

"Thanks, Jacob," said James, "Thanks for not telling anyone."

"Not telling anyone what?" Jacob said with an obviously confused look. "Well," he said, loudly, "I'm off to go get hitched. See you later, James."

Jacob looked at James with a combination of apology and awkwardness. James was obviously shaken and Jacob did not feel comfortable under James' sad gaze. Jacob walked quickly out of the bathroom, both because he was running slightly late for the ceremony and because he wanted to get away from the grief he had caused James.

Jacob had not expected it to turn out like this. He had expected James to be angry at first and then to feel relieved that his friends could finally understand who he truly was. Jacob honestly thought that this would be something good, that James would be happy. But it had turned out quite the opposite.

And Jacob was rather annoyed. Why should it be a sad thing? James was treating his gifts like a burden. He was hiding from his old friends and his old world. James was acting like a coward.

Jacob walked on the grassy fields towards the ceremony area. With every footfall Jacob became more and more angry with James. Peter, Sarah, and Emma had a right to know their friend's past. It wasn't fair and James should not be hurting both himself and his friends by being so secretive.

James came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He felt sick. He had tried every evasive maneuver, hoping that Jacob would think he had found the wrong person, but none of it had worked. And telling Jacob the truth made James feel even worse, partly because now there was someone out there who knew some truth to James' reason for leaving, and partly because James finally admitted to himself why he had left.

James made his way over to his seat next to Peter and Sarah and sat down. Jacob and Emma were greeting the last few guests and Peter and Sarah were chatting cheerfully. James just stared blankly into space.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Jacob knew the real James. He had worked so hard to hide it. It was almost as if James couldn't live in front of Jacob because he would be blatantly lying to someone who knew the truth. It was a completely different thing to lie to people who didn't know he was lying. But now it was just... wrong.

And all Jacob would have to do is mention the name "Harry" to someone in the wizarding world, and James would be found. James couldn't remember having such a sense of vulnerability. When he was Harry, he was in some ways vulnerable to Voldemort, but he had always expected the final battle, and so could never feel vulnerable to something he knew someday would happen. It was always other people being vulnerable because of him. Other people would be put in danger, not Harry.

Harry. James. Perhaps the worst part of someone finding out his past was that he didn't know who he was anymore. Harry? Or James? And this frightened him just as much as being sucked back into the wizarding world.

When he was little, he had his identity formed for him. He was Harry Potter, famous at the age of one, to be pitied, awed, and revered. He was to avenge his parents, vanquish evil, and save the world. When he broke away from all that, he created a new identity for himself. He was James Potterson, a teacher, who had a good sense of humor, a loyal set of friends, and a quiet life. He enjoyed being around people and had a reputation for being even tempered.

But who was he now? A famous crime fighter? Or a quiet life teacher? He was absolutely unsure of how to picture himself. _James, for now_, he thought_. Albeit a very confused one._

James was snapped out of his thoughts by the people around his standing and clapping. James followed suit, looking slightly dazed. Emma and Jacob were walking down the aisle, both smiling. The wedding was over. Jacob and Emma were married.

The reception could now begin. Already caterers had started grilling chicken and steak for the meal and salads were out on the buffet table. Several kids ran out to the field and started a game of baseball. People started milling around, chatting, and congratulating the new couple.

James saw all this happiness around him and it made him even more dejected. These people all seemed to be so sure of themselves. They all belonged where they were. They had only one life to live, not one life and a lie. They were smiling and laughing, with no thoughts of lost friends, deaths, and secrecy whirling in their heads. No feeling of fright, betrayal, and vulnerability shaking their hearts.

James gloomily headed towards a shady tree near the street. He sat down with his back against the tree and stared at the cars going by in front of him. He was not facing the reception.

He sat there, feeling as if a part of him had been ripped away and he was left to fend for himself in the world. He put his head back, against the tree, and stared up at the green branches and leaves.

Something nudged his foot. Thinking that it was a guest or a kid playing, he automatically said as he brought his head level, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," answered a voice. "It was I who bumped into you. I am the sorry one, especially because your foot is rather hard and my head now hurts."

James was surprised to see a green snake by his foot looking rather harshly at the spot where he had banged his head on James' shoe.

"You can understand me?" asked James.

"No," said the snake. "It's you who understand me. I take it you're a parselmouth."

James stuttered. "Well, no-- I mean, yes-- I mean--"

"Well are you or aren't you?" asked the snake amusedly.

James quickly shrugged his shoulders. "I am, then."

"I'm glad to hear it. If you had answered no, I would have had to proclaim myself clinically insane. Imagine, being able to talk to a human! I would have been a freak of nature..."

James blinked a few times in surprise.

"I don't mean that you are a freak of nature, of course," said the snake nervously. "Being a parselmouth is... normal. It's just a language. Nothing unusual about it."

_That must be why the pills don't remove it... because parseltongue is a language_, James thought. "I guess so."

The snake seemed to scrutinize James for a moment. "Boy, you're a mess," the snake commented.

"And how would a grass snake like yourself know?" asked James, slightly amused by the snake's statement.

"I am not a 'grass snake', I'll have you know," said the snake defensively. "I am a Plains Garter Snake, a _Thamnophis__ radix_. Of the cinnamon brown variety."

"Oh."

"And I can tell that you're in a bad way because your clothes are wrinkled, your face is pale and drawn, and your hair is disheveled."

"My hair is always disheveled," said James.

"Well, it makes you look even more messy."

"Thanks," James said wryly.

"So what happened?" asked the snake curiously.

James hesitated. Then he reasoned that since the snake could tell no one (or no human, at least), and since the snake was nice to talk to (at least he didn't jump to conclusions like so many other people in James' life), James would tell him.

"My friend," began James, "The groom at the reception over there, found out that I was... a wizard once."

"Oh? And did he freak out? Because I really hate people who do that. I've got several bruises from places I've been stepped on by ladies who've seen me and freaked out. It hurts."

"Well, it's more like I freaked out. I don't want people knowing, you see."

"Ooh, a much more interesting explanation," said the snake enthusiastically. "Couldn't handle waving sticks around?"

"Yeah, that was it," James answered, smiling. "And that it became too much of a responsibility. And it hurt."

"I bet you're one of those people who have a lot of power," the snake said with a knowing nod of his head.

"How did you know?"

"General consensus," answered the snake. "People with small to normal amounts think magic is a great thing, but once you get into the higher areas, they don't seem to agree."

James smiled at the snake's serious way of stating this fact.

"Well," continued the snake, "Is there anymore to tell?"

James had his knees bent up in the air, and James helped the snake up to sit upon James' knees to be at his eye level.

"Well," began James, "I was once a boy named Harry Potter. Ever heard of him... me?"

The snake thought a moment. "Nope. But what are you now?"

James smiled. "I'm now James Potterson. Anyway, I was expected to save the world from a man named Voldemort. Ever heard of him?"

The snake thought some more. "Was he the guy with creepy red eyes that gave a bad name to snakes?"

"Yeah."

"I think I've heard of him. His snake made a speech long ago trying to get all snakes to ban together and support whatever his name was. She was a bad egg, that snake. Who would want to be a _pet_ and do someone's dirty work? Anyway, go on with what sounds like a very interesting story."

"Well..." And James proceeded to tell the snake a brief, more exciting, less depressing version of the battles between him and Voldemort. He left out the hostage situation and didn't include Ron or Hermione. He kept in the exciting battles with him and Draco commanding and the parts where he had been relatively happy.

James was warming up to this some-truth-but-mostly-embellishment story. He spoke animatedly and his hands flew about. James included vocal impressions of each character. The snake laughed at all the funny parts and gasped during the action parts. He was a perfect audience.

"And then, when I reached the top of that great mountain--"

"Stop a moment, James," said the snake in an urgent whisper, "There's someone approaching. I think it's the groom."

All of the gaiety James had instantly left him and within two seconds of the snake's warning, James was sober as a tombstone.

"I see you've taken to conversing to snakes instead of people," observed Jacob.

"They're a more forgiving company," answered James dryly.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Well, you are needed. Emma wants you to meet someone."

The snake saw that James had to go and slithered off of his spot on James' knees so James could stand. James and the snake said exchanged names (the snake's was Rathan) and said a quick goodbye. Jacob gave strange looks in their direction, but at that point James didn't care. _Let him wonder about it. Why should I have to explain everything to him_? thought James angrily. Then James stood up and walked back to the reception with Jacob.

"Jamesie!" shrieked Emma when she saw James. "Where _have_ you been? I have someone I want you to meet." Emma roughly pulled a woman over. "This is Wendy, my friend from high school," she introduced. "Wendy, this is my friend James."

Wendy and James shook hands with side looks at Emma, trying to figure out what her ulterior motive was.

"Wendy," went on Emma, "Jamesie here is single. And James, Wendy is single too. What a coincidence! How _could_ that have happened?"

"I don't know," said Wendy, smiling at Emma. "It couldn't have been planned by a certain someone, of course."

"Hey Jamesie," said Emma in a heavy whisper, "You need a girlfriend. Go and talk with Wendy."

"Yes ma'm," said James curtly.

Emma narrowed her eyes.

Wendy saw this and quickly took James' arm and pulled him towards a picnic table.

"I thought it best if we didn't stick around," Wendy explained. "Emma can turn drastic."

"Any interesting experiences behind that statement?" asked James.

Wendy wrinkled her nose. "Emma sets me up with someone as often as she can. I don't think she likes the boyfriend I have at home. She considers me single."

"Hard to have Emma against you. Bit like swimming upstream, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it."

Peter came up to James a tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey James," said Peter, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Emma and Jacob are going to spend Christmas with us. Isn't that wonderful?"

_Wonderful, just wonderful_... James thought. _Not only will I now have to look over my shoulder for people who might recognize me, but also I'll have the one person in my midst who knows about my past life and that world. He'll probably want a tour of Diagon Alley_, thought James bitterly.

"Hey, James," continued Peter, "Do you think you can spare a second?"

Wendy waved her hand motioning for James to go, and James nodded to Peter.

"I have someone I want you to meet," Peter said.

Peter led James to an area where another lady was standing chatting to some people.

"James," said Peter, pulling the lady in front of James, "This is Kate, Jacob's cousin. Kate, this is James, Jacob's and my friend. Kate has a lot of the same interests as you, James. I think you guys will get along well."

Peter left the area leaving Kate and James in a rather awkward position. They both knew they were being set up, and both didn't really want it.

"So... you're a friend of Jacob's?" said Kate.

"Yeah," said James.

There was a pause.

"I think they're serving cake," said Kate suddenly. "Let's go get some."

She and James each got a slice of the chocolate cake (made by Peter, at a discount price, for Jacob and Emma) and sat down at a table. James half-heartedly ate his cake and they made short talk for a while before several other people joined them, including Wendy, who had already been introduced to another guy by Emma.

Soon the reception was over. Emma and Jacob were off to Key Largo for their honeymoon and people started heading home, James among the first. James didn't really feel like being around Jacob or other people, for that matter. It just felt too strange. Jacob, without seriously meaning to, had made James' life a lot harder. Because now he was truly living a lie, and not just a separate life. Whenever Jacob was there, James knew consciously that he was lying and that Jacob knew the truth. His life could no longer be an improvement to his old life, but a sign of fear and cowardice of what he had once been.

_One thing is for sure,_ James thought before going to bed that night, _I am not looking forward to England_.

----------------

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	22. Flying and Spying

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?

**Author's note:** Whee! I'm getting better, I've got a chapter up, I've already started on my next chapter, and life in general is treating me well. Thank you guys so much for being so understanding! The climax is right around the corner… (actually, there are several climatic parts….)

Chapter 22: Flying and Spying

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Time was flying by, and soon Jacob and Emma returned from their honeymoon, the bakery had a new project in which Peter was perfecting his lemon bars for another rather large wedding request, Sarah was still hitting a certain someone over the head with hints of marriage, and James had a new class of students to teach.

Autumn passed by, and whether it was because James was trying all too hard to ignore the holiday event looming on the horizon, or because, despite all his efforts, James was agonizing over the same event every minute of every day, winter came, and with it: Christmas. The 20th of December was the doomsday (as he called it... tenderly) in James' life. That was the day he would leave for and, unfortunately for James, arrive in England.

The last week before the school's winter vacation started swept by, and it was Friday afternoon. School was done, James' room was clean, and James knew he had to go home and pack, as he was leaving the next day. He drove home as slowly as he could, packed as slowly as he could, he even went to bed as late as he could, trying to stop the doomsday from coming. But time is hard to stop, and soon the future became the present.

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A very loud BEEP was the first thing James heard that morning.

Another loud BEEP was the second thing he heard.

James groggily opened his eyes. It was his alarm clock that was waking him up so rudely at 5:30 in the morning, and it was still making noise. Of course, James _had_ set the alarm himself in order to wake up at 5:30, but the unsympathetic and constant beeping of the clock was rude nonetheless.

James stuck out his hand and waved wildly at the clock, finally succeeding in turning the noise off, if only by knocking the clock to the floor. James blinked a few times, then sat up in bed and stretched his arms out wide, yawning.

Luis saw that James was awake and jumped onto the bed, stepping on James' feet in his excitement for some attention.

"Ow, Luis, watch where you step," said James tiredly, petting the cat fondly.

Luis did not listen to James, and the cat lifted up his front two paws and placed them on James' chest. Luis meowed and rubbed his head against James' chin.

"Luis," said James laughing, "You're getting cat hair in my mouth."

James gently picked up his cat and carried him to the kitchen. He set Luis down on the counter next to a bowl.

"We'll have breakfast together," said James getting a bowl of cereal for himself and some canned food for Luis.

James opened the cat food and put it in the bowl for Luis. Then he sat down on a stool and started eating his own breakfast.

Luis finished his breakfast quickly and turned to James to see how he was doing with his. James had about a spoonful left, and had not taken a bite in a good five minutes. He was simply staring at the wall. Luis meowed.

James snapped out of his thoughts. He smiled when he noticed the cat in front of him and gave Luis a pet.

"Sorry, Lu," James said. "I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? There! You see? Now I _can't_ go to England, I need to stay here with you."

Luis meowed as if he whole-heartedly agreed with that idea. James did too.

"Don't make me go, Luis. I don't want to go," sighed James.

James saw that it was almost six. He slowly stood up, put the bowls in the dishwasher, and went to his room to get changed.

James soon emerged with a bag and a book, ready (or as ready as he would ever be, he felt) to meet everyone at the airport and head to England. For the first time in ten years.

James took a deep breath. _Don't make me go_, he thought. But he knew he promised, and he knew he cared for the Hardings, and he knew he could not back out now.

"Mrs. Rosso will be taking care of you, Luis. Don't you worry about me. I'll be back in ten days. Just in time for New Year's." James bent down and gave Luis a pet.

"Just don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone, Luis" said James, and with that, he went out the door.

James arrived at the airport with a heavy heart. He parked his car in the parking lot, the sign for prices mocking him as he paid the parking cost for "Ten days or more". He checked his luggage outside the building, trying as hard as he could not to snatch up his retreating bags and speed home. His stomach heaved with each step closer to the terminal, and James almost cried out aloud when he entered the international section.

A few people looked at him oddly and James realized how foolish he was acting. _Get a grip_, James chided himself. _You're not going to die. London's a big place. Nobody will find you_.

James took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew it was irrational to be panicking like this. He tried to reason with himself. _Just take the pills a little more often. Don't worry. Worrying will get you nowhere. It's not that hard. London will be fun. Fun, don't you see? A Christmas vacation with some of your best friends._

But despite James' efforts to calm himself down, he still had a rising nausea every time he thought about where he would be at the end of the day.

_But what are you afraid about_? James asked himself. It was an easy question to answer. _Someone seeing me, someone recognizing me, someone dragging me back to the place where all the people I cared about died simply because they knew me_.

Now the annoying voice in the back of James' mind asked him a harder question: _Why? Why are you afraid of all this_?

Fortunately, James was spared from diving into deep personal confrontation by a shout not too far away.

"James! Hey James! Over here!"

James turned towards the sound. Peter was waving at James to get his attention. James gave a small wave and a smile (although if anyone was close enough they could easily see it was forced) to stop Peter from yelling and motioning wildly.

James walked over to the gate, the butterflies in his stomach threatening to break free.

"James! Glad you could make it on time!" said Peter, attempting to make a joke. James barely made it in time for the last boarding call, and everybody else but Peter had already entered the plane.

"Yeah, sure," answered James, failing to pick up on Peter's humor; James was too distracted with his efforts to stop his cereal from coming up.

James followed Peter onto the plane and sat down nervously. Mrs. Harding managed to give James a hug and almost everybody else asked where he had been. His only response was "Sorry."

James sat down and buckled his seatbelt. The plane backed out and headed for the runway. James felt his throat and lungs tighten. _Why, oh why_, he thought,_ am I going to the one place I do not want to go? How did I ever get myself into this?_ All of James' rational was gone, and his heart was filled with misgiving.

The plane took off. James paled considerably. He looked out the window and saw his home growing smaller and smaller. "No, no, no, no," he mumbled to himself, looking at the land down below. "No, no, no, no, no."

"Hey, James," asked Peter, who was one seat over, "Are you okay? You don't look so well."

James didn't turn to talk to Peter. He rested his forehead against the window and mumbled in answer, "I get sick flying."

Jacob overheard him and asked, "Are you sure? I didn't think _you_ would be one to get _flight_ sickness."

James closed his eyes in annoyance. Jacob's comments were getting to him. "Look, Jacob, would you just leave me alone?"

The seatbelt sign clicked off just in time, and James got up to go to the bathroom. He just wanted a few minutes to himself. James went into the small compartment and closed the door. He splashed some water on his face to calm himself down and swallowed a couple of his pills.

Jacob had been annoying him a lot lately. For the first few months Jacob had merely been quiet, probably embarrassed because he was the only one who knew anything about the real James. But over time, Jacob turned almost... angry. Angry at the fact that James was hiding who he really was from his closest friends, his family. Jacob began asking if James "was sure about that" or saying he "thought it was something different." He started to push the fact that James was lying about his identity. It wasn't so much that James was worried about the others finding out (he knew that Jacob would stay quiet and any comments he said would sound like nothing to the others), but it was that Jacob kept making James feel so... guilty. James could almost hear what Jacob was thinking. For example, with the that last comment Jacob made, James could tell that Jacob was twisting the knife by implying that he knew James used to be a seeker and could therefore not really get flight sickness.

James took a deep breath. He did not want to get in a fight. Honestly, he really did know that Jacob could keep a secret. A good bet could be made on the fact that Jacob probably hadn't even told his family who knew about magic, never mind Emma. Yes, Jacob could keep a secret. What James couldn't stand was the way that someone who knew his past could make James hate himself so much. James hated the way he felt when he lied about his childhood in front of his friends. The mere presence of Jacob made James aware of his lies, and consequently filled James' mind with disgust towards himself.

James came out of the bathroom and sat back down in his seat, ignoring the worried looks from the others. Mrs. Harding, who was sitting behind James, tapped his shoulder.

"Dear, are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

James gave a small smile. He really loved the Hardings and wouldn't want to hurt them in any way. "Yes, thank you. Planes... you know, the whole idea of flying in a pressurized tube of metal isn't exactly appealing to me."

"Well, as long as you can make it to England okay."

James swallowed, his throat once again tight. He didn't want to be rude, and forced himself to sound grateful. "Oh, and thank you so much for inviting me. I really appreciate it."

Mrs. Harding laughed a bit. "And have our first Christmas without you, since we've known you? I don't think so! You're family."

Olivia spoke up. "Yeah, I tried as hard as I could to make mum leave you behind, but she was too stubborn. Don't know what she sees in you," Olivia teased.

James laughed. "Thanks," he said wryly.

Two girls came running down the aisle.

"Uncle James!" they shouted. "Uncle James!"

Peter's brother Ryan, his wife Lucy, and their girls, Gina (9) and Nicole (6), were sitting in the back of the plane. Unfortunately, they were the only ones separated from the group. So the girls had come down to say hello to their "uncle", as they fondly referred to James.

"You're coming to England with us, right?" asked Gina.

"Of course I am!" James laughed. "Would I really want to miss a Christmas with my favorite oldest niece?"

"Yes, but not with your favoritest youngest niece!" said Nicole, smiling at her sister. Gina stuck her tongue out in response.

"Are you going to come to dinner with us tomorrow?" asked Gina.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it." James wondered why they were asking questions with such obvious answers.

"Is it true you really lived in England?" asked Nicole.

"What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?" Gina giggled at her uncle's overly exasperated tone. "Yes, I lived in England at one point," finished James.

"So, you won't leave us and stay at your old home?" said Nicole in a small voice.

"No! How could I leave behind you two?" James was amused that the girls were so concerned for him.

Poor Nicole didn't look very consoled by her uncle's answer, so James added, "Besides, my British accent is gone. The country won't take me back if I don't have a British accent."

"Really?" asked Nicole, with wide eyes.

"Yep. They would tie me up and send me back to Canada in a mail sack if I tried to live there without my accent. And they would do worse if they knew that I had left behind the two sweetest girls in all of the Americas."

"I think you're pulling our leg, Uncle James," said Gina. "They can't keep you out of the country just because you don't have an accent."

"You caught me," said James, feigning woe. "It's true! I've lied! They won't send me back if I don't have an accent. But," said James factually, lifting a finger. "It is true that they will punish me severely if I ran away from you two."

"I guess you're stuck with us," said Nicole, smiling. She was convinced her uncle wouldn't leave her.

"Darn," said James, as he gave the two girls and big hug.

"Did I answer all your questions correctly?" asked James when they pulled away.

"Oh yes," answered Gina seriously. "With flying colors."

Nicole laughed, and after the two girls said a little something to the rest of their relatives, they headed back to their seats.

The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful. Most of the family fell asleep or watched the in-flight movies, leaving James to his own thoughts. He was still nervous, and he went to the bathroom periodically when he felt about to throw up.

Soon, the plane landed in London. Everyone gathered their bags from the pick up area and hailed several taxis to take the large group to the hotel.

Mr. and Mrs. Harding and Olivia roomed together. Ryan and his family had a room. Jacob and Emma had their own room, and so did Peter and Sarah (Sarah was quite happy about this).

That left James with a room to himself. Which was a good thing, because his nerves finally got to him and he promptly threw up as soon as he entered the room's bathroom.

----------------

Hermione and her family had just sat down to dinner when the SpySphere came into the room beeping. When it reached Hermione, silver words streamed out. "_A man with 0 magic just entered the specified radius_".

Hermione had set the sphere to search for anybody entering within 20 miles of London with a magic level of 0. She knew that the only person who could have that level of magic (or lack of it) would be the man she saw in the bakery, and therefore, Harry.

Hermione took out her wand and tapped the SpySphere. "_Insequi_. Follow James Potterson, muggle, with magic ability of 0. Record all conversations with the words "evening", "dinner", "plans", and/or "restaurant". _Abire_." The SpySphere promptly left when Hermione had finished.

Ron was staring hard at his wife. "Not the SpySphere again, honey?" he asked.

"It's completely necessary," said Hermione, glaring at Ron, daring him to say otherwise. "I need to know when Harry will be alone so we can approach him."

"You mean kidnap him," muttered Ron, stirring his mashed potatoes.

"Excuse me?" asked Hermione sharply.

Ron turned slightly pink. "I said... the soup's too thin?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I didn't make soup."

"No, but the dinner is still brilliant, isn't it kids?" said Ron quickly.

Emily and Jack nodded enthusiastically, wanting as much as their father to avoid an argument.

"I love the potatoes, Mum!" said Emily.

"And the fish is delicious!" chimed in Jack.

"Mmm-mm," said Ron, shoveling food in his mouth at an amazing speed. "This was a wonderful dinner. You are fantastic. Why don't I clean up? Give you a break. I'm sure you would like some nice relaxation time."

Ron finished his dinner in no time flat and soon the clanking and banging of washing pots and dishes could be heard from the kitchen.

"I think your plan is brilliant," said Emily after a while. "Can I meet Harry Potter if you find him?"

"Me too?" said Jack.

"Sure," said Hermione. "It will be an early Christmas present."

----------------

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	23. Eating and Meeting

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?

**Author's note:** Forgive me for the late update? (I've been saying that a lot lately…) I'm promising myself a very big treat if I can get the next chapter up with in a week… Hopefully the incentive will work… Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 23: Eating and Meeting

----------------

"Ron, dear," said Hermione at breakfast the next morning, "I've taken the liberty of inviting a few people over... for the plan."

"Excuse me?" asked Ron incredulously. He did not want to get other people involved in "the plan". In his opinion, it was already confusing enough with only two people knowing about it.

"Well, you didn't think that only you and I could pull it off, did you?"

"And just _who_ did you invite over?" Ron was getting suspicious.

"Just the twins and Ginny. No one else. They'll be here by about 4:00. The kids will over at Janice's house."

Ron put his hand to his forehead. "Hermione! How could you do this? Fred and George are going to terrorize that poor man! And Ginny... she won't want to give up time to work on this _stupid_ idea! She has probably made plans with Daniel. She said she was going to apparate over to his house for Christmas eve. You're going too far, Hermione. Why must you be so elaborate? If you want to find out if the man is Harry, why don't you just walk up to him on the street and _ask_ him? You know, like a _normal_ person?"

"Did you just call my plan stupid?" Hermione's eyes were bright and her voice shrill. "I have created this plan perfectly. _Nothing_ is wrong with it. And we can't just walk up to him on the street because he would deny being Harry. I've planned something where he can _never_ deny who he is and he'll have to join our world again. You'll see, he'll come back."

Ron rolled his eyes at his wife's hysterics. Jack and Emily had by this time left the breakfast table and headed up to their rooms. They were all too used to their mother's moods that had started ever since she had come back from seeing Ginny.

"Hermione," said Ron warily, "What exactly are you going to do? You're not going to hurt the guy, are you?"

"Only if he deserves it."

"But do you even know if he's ever going to be alone? That's what you need for this plan to work, don't you? What if he's never by himself?"

"I have back up plans. Which is why I invited the twins and Ginny over. I sent the SpySphere to go listen for dinner plans. I figure night time would be a more effective and dramatic time to execute the plan," Hermione ended excitedly.

"And while we're on the subject of SpySpheres, I've been meaning to ask you something. If you wanted to find out if the guy was Harry so badly, why didn't you just have the device follow the man around some more after you found out he was going to England? He could have said something that would have proven whether or not he was Harry."

"Like what? Talked in Parseltounge? Told his friends 'I'm the most powerful wizard since 1734'? Like those muggles would have believed him."

"He _might_ have told them that, after all, they did see you shout a spell."

Hermione threw her hands up. "Who cares? I knew he was Harry from the moment I saw him. I didn't need _proof_, I needed _dates_, like when he would be coming to England."

"So you just had the SpySphere sitting here for four months measuring who came into and out of the London area?"

"Pretty much. Brilliant, wasn't it?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Sure it was, honey." There was a pause. "So, you're hoping you find out the man's dinner arrangements by this afternoon, right? So you can make plans for your plan?" asked Ron, slightly confused.

"Hopefully," responded Hermione.

"Good luck with that. It will be a miracle if this plan works at all."

"Trust me, it will work fine," said Hermione confidently.

----------------

James walked into the small restaurant nervously. He had made arrangements with Ciara and Paul to meet for lunch, and was anxious about seeing them. He had not seen them for at least a year and a half.

It was an Indian restaurant and all the windows had been darkened. The air was scented with incense and the smell of curry. James looked at his watch. He was slightly late. He looked around the room to see if the Westins had arrived yet. Two shapes in the corner caught his attention and he walked over to them.

"James!" said Ciara excitedly when she saw him approaching. "I'm so happy to see you!" She stood up and gave James a tight hug. Paul stood up and James shook hands with him.

"Hello Ciara, Paul," said James. "How are you two doing?"

"Just fine, James," answered Paul.

"Did you get a new haircut?" asked Ciara, fingering James's hair maternally.

"You mean since I saw you last?" James laughed. "Well, I suppose it does look different... I had it pretty long when I visited you guys in New York."

"It was down to your shoulders!" chuckled Ciara.

"Here, James, have a seat," said Paul, gesturing to a chair.

They all sat down in their chairs. A waiter came by and poured a glass of water for each of them.

"So, how's your life going?" asked Ciara after sipping some water.

"Oh, alright, I guess."

"Alright? What's wrong?"

"Oh, you know, issues..." replied James vaguely.

"Is it about that sighting?" asked Paul.

"Um, yes..." James answered, confused.

"We read the paper," explained Ciara.

"Oh."

"Pity about her seeing you," said Paul, "Your scar didn't show, did it?"

"No, but she still went nuts."

"And I'm guessing you still haven't told your friends about yourself?" asked Ciara, hoping the she was wrong.

"No, I haven't told them," James sighed.

"Poor James," said Ciara sympathetically. Somehow, those words made James feel slightly better, as if someone else understood exactly what he was going through.

The waiter came by and asked for orders. Ciara ordered for the entire table, and what she ordered all sounded pretty spicy.

"Getting in touch with your Indian roots?" asked James wryly.

"Hardly. I'm Irish and I happen to like spicy food, thank you very much. And so does Paul," answered Ciara.

"It's an acquired taste," said Paul. "Years of eating it have numbed my English tongue, and now I can hardly tell if something's spicy or not."

"I just hope my tongue can take it," said James.

Ciara laughed. "Don't worry. You'll enjoy it."

"So what are you two doing for Christmas this year?" asked James.

"We were just going to have a quiet holiday at our house," said Paul. "Ciara's sister might drop by."

"She's got three grandkids that she might bring by as well. They are so adorable," said Ciara. " Most of the ornaments on the tree were broken beyond repair by Maegan's grandkids last year, so we're stocking up this year. Along with the potion ingredients, we've been shopping for some extra ornaments."

"By the way, have you had any luck finding the ingredients you need?" said James.

"More or less. But powdered boar's blood is getting harder and harder to buy in large quantities. We did have unusual luck finding the pickled ginseng flower, though."

"That _was_ pretty lucky," said Paul, "Normally we have to special order that from Asia. As it was, the apothecary had just ordered some. Apparently, there's a new diet potion that uses pickled ginseng flower, and that's why he had ordered it."

James made a face. "Don't diet potions usually use really gross ingredients?"

"Which is why this new one is so popular. Ginseng flower can hardly be called gross."

"I don't understand girls these days," said Ciara. "They seem to have potions that fix anything. Why can't they just be happy?"

"Women are weird," commented James thinking of Emma.

"By the way, do you have a girlfriend yet?"

"No."

"Why not? I bet girls are dying to find a nice gentleman like you."

"You'd be surprised."

"You're such a loner, James. Don't you ever want a girlfriend? Or want to get married?"

Luckily, the waiter brought by the food just in time to stop the conversation. James did not feel like discussing his love life, or lack thereof.

All the food was spicy, but, true to Ciara's word, James enjoyed it. The rest of the dinner passed by quickly. James told Ciara and Paul about his students at school and about the bakery and other casual topics. Ciara and Paul told James about their new clients (there was one sad case where a mother came with her daughter, age 6, to buy pills for the two of them to escape the father) and about some advancements they have been working on.

Soon, it was time for the Westins and James to leave. The Westins were expecting a client later that afternoon. James said a sad goodbye to Ciara and Paul, and Ciara wiped a few tears away.

"Come and visit us soon, will you?" she asked.

"I'll try as hard as possible," answered James.

Paul and Ciara gave James a few more hugs and "Merry Christmas's, and then the Westins hailed a taxi and left.

James headed back to his hotel room. He knew that he and all the Hardings were to go to the wax museum and then to dinner, but he did not know when.

James knocked on Peter and Sarah's hotel door.

"Come in!"

When James came in he saw both Peter and Sarah playing video games on the hotel TV.

"Small-town life boring you, Peter?" asked James, smiling.

Peter paused the game and looked up at James. "No, we were waiting for you."

"Indeed," said James dryly, glancing at Sarah who was still furiously clicking at her consul, not realizing the game was paused.

"Come on! Why won't you go? Peter--" Sarah glanced at Peter who was laughing softly and saw that the game was paused.

"So... James... what were you saying?" she asked, a suffusion of red coming to her cheeks.

"I was asking when we were going to leave to visit the wax museum?" asked James.

"As soon as everyone meets in Mum and Dad's room, around 2:30," answered Peter.

"That sounds good to me." James looked at his watch. It was 2:00. "I'll just wait here, then, with you guys until 2:30."

Sarah laughed in amusement.

"What?" asked James. "Is it alright if I wait here?"

Sarah started to laugh harder. "Yeah..."

"Then what's so funny?" asked James. Peter also looked at Sarah with confusion. He had no idea what Sarah was laughing at either.

"It's... your... accent...James..." she managed to get out again, before another fit of giggles overtook her.

"Why does everybody think my voice sounds so funny?" asked James, annoyed. "What's wrong with it? I don't think I have an accent, do you Peter?"

"Actually, James, I think you do."

"Do you mean a Canadian accent or a British accent?" asked James. "Because the Canadian accent might sound funny in England, but the English accent would sound funny around you guys," he explained.

Sarah was still laughing. "Can you say something else? It's so funny!"

James rolled his eyes and closed his mouth tight.

"You've got a nice Canadian-British mixed accent, James" said Peter. "It's just your old accent coming back. I mean, you grew up here, right?"

James shook his head yes.

"So it's perfectly natural for your accent to come back, at least partially, by visiting here, right?"

James shrugged his shoulders.

"Sarah, would you stop laughing so James can talk again?"

"It's too hard to stop!" she said, clearly having a laughing fit.

"Then can you leave?"

Sarah laughed. "Sure... I'll visit your parents." She wandered out of the room. Peter and James could hear her insane laughter fading down the hall.

"She gets that way sometimes," said Peter. "'Besides, she didn't know you when you had your accent, so it is probably strange for her to hear you speaking with an English accent."

"Great. Just great. Tell me, do you think it will be safe for me to ever speak to her again? Or will she rupture her diaphragm?"

"I think she'll be fine... that is, as soon as we get back to Canada and your English accent fades away again."

The hotel phone in the room rang. Peter answered it.

"Hello?... Wow, that was fast... Yes... Yes... No... James is fine... And he _is_ talking again... No... What?... I think so... Sure... That's fine... Okay... We'll be right over."

"Who was it?" asked James.

"That was Sarah calling from my parents' room. She said it's easier to talk to me without you in the room and that we should come over now. She also asked if tomorrow would be an okay night for just the four of us to go out for dinner. I don't think she was _really_ asking, because she had just gotten her reservations confirmed."

"In short, it was a courtesy call," said James dryly. "How Sarah of her. So, where did she make the reservations?"

"A restaurant called _Italia_ just off Leicester Square."

"Well, Italian sounds nice."

"Yeah, if it wasn't at 8:30."

"It's at 8:30? At night?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "No, we're eating dinner in the morning... Of course it's at night!"

"Is this restaurant really nice or something?"

"Yeah. She's wanted to go ever since we passed by it earlier today. And she wanted just the four of us to go. I think tomorrow night is the only night we're doing that, all the other nights we're eating with the entire family."

"That's fine. Are you almost ready to go to your parents' room?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "Just let me put on my shoes."

A few moments later, James and Peter headed out of the room to Peter's parent's room.

And a few minutes later, a small round globe left the folds of the curtain and zoomed out the slightly open window.

----------------

The SpySphere flew in just in time. George and Fred had just arrived, and Ginny had already been at Hermione and Ron's house for a few minutes.

"Our last guest has arrived!" said Hermione as the SpySphere flew in the house.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "A metal ball is now a friend of yours?"

"Tell me, are the late night conversations interesting?" asked George with mock curiosity.

"Oh, and for purely scientific reasons," said Fred, "Is your friend a boy or a girl?"

"And if it's a girl, can I have her name and address?" asked George.

"And if it's a boy, can I get his name and address?" said Fred just as seriously as his brother.

Ginny started laughing. "Fred! You're married! What would Angelina say if I told her you left her for a male ball of metal?"

"She's got a point there, Fred," said George. "I think I should take both names and addresses. It gives me more options."

Ron started laughing with Ginny, all the while waiting for Hermione to get annoyed or slightly angry, but she did neither. She was too happy.

"Laugh it up," she said brightly, "But this is our key to finding Harry."

The group suddenly sobered.

"As in Harry _Potter_?" asked Ginny in a high-pitched voice.

"As in the Boy Who Lived?" asked Fred.

"As in--" started George.

"Yes, yes. As in the Harry we know and love," said Hermione slightly impatiently.

"Is this why you invited us over?" asked Ginny.

"Yes it is. You all are going to help me find Harry, and I can guarantee you he'll be with us by Christmas."

Ron groaned.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "And can I please get started with out any more interruptions?"

Ron mumbled an apology.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Now, as you all know I saw Harry living as a muggle in Canada. And I happen to know that Harry is in London at this moment. Which means that he should not be that hard to find. With the help of this SpySphere, here," she gestured to the silver sphere in her palm, "We will know find out when and where we will be able to find him."

Fred looked incredulous.

"But how--" began Ginny.

"Just listen," said Hermione, tapping the sphere with her wand.

Smokey letters floated out. _Number of conversations heard: one_, it read.

Then, at high volume, the conversation Peter had related to James flew from the sphere.

"_She also asked if tomorrow would be an okay night for just the four of us to go out for dinner..._" said Peter's voice very loudly.

"Whoa," commented George. "Mind turning that down a few decibels?"

Hermione hushed at him.

"She doesn't know how," whispered Ron loudly to George.

"_So, where did she make the reservations?_" continued the sphere, seeming to yell in James' voice.

"_A restaurant called _Italia_ just off Leicester Square._"

"_Well, Italian sounds nice._"

"_Yeah, if it wasn't at 8:30._"

"_It's at 8:30? At night?"_

"_No, we're eating dinner in the morning... Of course it's at night!_"

"This is amazing," said Fred. "Though it doesn't--"

Hermione sent a glare in Fred's direction and he promptly stopped talking.

"._..she wanted just the four of us to go_," the SpySphere shrieking in Peter's voice. "_I think tomorrow night is the only night we're doing that, all the other nights we're eating with the entire family._"

The SpySphere was done repeating the conversation and was silent.

"As you see," said Hermione, "Tomorrow is when we will enact the plan. It is our only chance. We have all the information and it seems to be the night with the least amount of people going to dinner."

"Um, and what exactly is 'The Plan'?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

Ron sighed. "Here we go..."

"Using your help and some strategic positions, 'The Plan' is, at the most basic level, a flawless design to make Harry rejoin our world."

----------------

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Adah


	24. Driving and Story Time

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?

**Author's note:** I am so entirely sorry! I had this chapter written and ready to update by Saturday. But was down and I could not post it. I tried for every hour on the hour the whole night, even though I had the flu, but I just couldn't post it. Really, I tried! See, I was trying so hard all Saturday night because I had to go on a flight the next morning and wouldn't be near a computer for the rest of the week. Gaa! Fate is against me… Oh well, here is an exciting chapter (that was originally two chapters, but I felt so bad about this late update that I consolidated it into one). The next one will be even more exciting.

Chapter 24: Driving and Story Time

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The next day, James, Sarah, Jacob, Emma, and all the Hardings decided to walk around London together. They left the hotel mid-morning after a good breakfast and headed towards the park. It was decided that they would take a double-decker bus to get there.

Unfortunately, the bus proved to be a bad idea for a family outing. Within minutes, the large group was divided into three. The allure of Barney's and other large clothing stores proved to be too strong for the girls (minus Mrs. Harding), who made up the largest group. Emma, Sarah, Olivia, and Lucy desperately wanted to go shopping. Gina and Nicole also wanted a chance to shop with "the big girls", and Lucy quickly agreed to take the children, mostly because she knew her husband would let her shop longer and spend more if he did not have to worry about taking care of the kids.

"You know how men are," she told Sarah later, "They're just not good when it comes to taking care of children for long periods of time. I think it's too stressful for them."

Mr. and Mrs. Harding saw from the bus other museums that they had not toured the day before. They decided to go to the museums once they realized that the young women were not staying around either.

That left Peter, Ryan, James and Jacob as a group.

At the next stop, everyone got off the bus and went their separate ways, one part walking quickly towards Barney's, and one part headed towards an armory exhibit. The guys stayed behind at the bus stop, unsure of where to go.

"So," asked Peter, "What do you all want to do?"

"I wouldn't mind going back to the hotel to sleep," said Jacob, yawning. "Emma was watching movies all night. Just my luck that there was a Kung-Fu marathon on TV..."

The guys laughed slightly at Jacob's predicament, which cause his ears to turn pink.

"It's really not that funny..." he said indignantly.

"Why don't we go for a snack?" offered Ryan. "I wouldn't mind hanging out at a pub for a while."

"Now that sounds nice," said James. "It's relaxing. Just having a few drinks, catching up on some sports, and sitting watching the crowds go by. I could do that."

"Me too," said Peter.

"As long as I don't have to move, it's fine with me as well," yawned Jacob.

"Then a pub it is." Ryan smiled. "That wasn't so hard."

"We're an easy-going bunch," said James wryly.

If figuring out what to do was easy, finding a cab was quite another thing. Multiple times the guys saw a vacant cab close by, but they were never close enough to stop another group of people from getting to it first.

"This is impossible," groaned Jacob. "We've been walking blocks and blocks to find a cab. Why don't we just walk to the pub?"

"Because I am depending on the cab driver to suggest of few good pubs to us, and then we can go to one of those," answered Ryan factually. "We can't walk somewhere if we don't know where we're going."

"Hey look!" said Peter suddenly, pointing at a cab. "How about that one?"

There was a young girl of about ten standing outside of the cab, arguing with the driver. She was thin and wiry, and had a shockingly blond hair. In her hand she held a black suitcase tightly. As the foursome came closer, they could overhear what the girl was saying.

"Look, mister," she said, her voice filled with exasperation, "All I'm saying is that I would like you to take me to my house. Is that so hard?"

The cab driver leaned out his window slightly. "Miss, I can't take you anywhere unless you have your parents with you. I'm sorry."

"But I just _told_ you--"

"I said I was sorry, but you'll have to call your parents to pick you up."

The girl glared at the driver, turned sharply, and sat down on a nearby bench.

"Here we go," said Peter, coming up to the taxi. "Are you open?" he asked the driver.

"Yes, hop in," the driver answered, happy to have a customer other than the girl.

"We're set," said Ryan, getting into the cab. "Say, do you know of any good pubs around here?"

"Actually, there are a bunch nearby."

Peter and Jacob got into the cab and Ryan started talking to the cab driver about pubs. James took the moment to walk up to the girl. He was concerned about her and wanted to make sure she was all right.

"Are you lost?" he asked gently.

"No," the girl said darkly, "I'm just trying to get back home."

"Are your parents with you?"

"No, they are _at_ home, that's why I want to _go_ home." The girl spoke as if she were talking to a very young child, speaking slowly and enunciating each word. It gave James the impression that she must be a very haughty and defiant girl. Ryan was still speaking to the driver, so James decided to keep talking to the girl.

"Did you run away?" asked James.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Aren't you smart..."

"I mean, you must miss your parents a lot, and, if--"

"I don't _miss_ them," she interrupted, "I just need more _money_."

James blinked in confusion. "Okay... well, I was just going to say that if you need a ride, it would be easy for us to take you back home."

The girl looked up at James, frowning. "I'm not going to drive home with _you_!"

"Why not?"

"You are a stranger," she said simply. "I'm not dumb, Mr. whoever-you-are. Only dumb people would get into a car with a stranger."

"Isn't a cab driver usually a stranger?"

"Yes, but it's their profession. They have contracts and everything. _You_ don't."

James sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey James!" called out Peter. "You coming or not?"

"One second," James yelled back. He sat on the bench next to the girl. "Let's start over," said James to the girl. "I'm James Potterson. What's your name?"

"Tammy Dursley, and I _don't_ like you sitting there," answered the girl.

James' eyes widened. "Dursley?"

"Are you deaf or something?" asked Tammy.

"Yes-- I mean, no-- I mean--" James stopped. The girl really did look a lot like Dudley, albeit a much thinner one. He knew it would be a shot in the dark, but he just had to ask the question. "Your father wouldn't by any chance be named Dudley, would it?" he asked cautiously.

"Actually, yes," said Tammy, surprised.

"And you have a grandmother named Petunia?"

"Yes..." answered the girl slowly, getting suspicious.

"Well," said James, "I guess we're not strangers them. I'm your father's cousin."

Tammy's face lit up in realization. "You must be my wicked cousin Harry!"

"Er, I guess so..." James did not know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was "wicked".

"Of course I'll ride with you! Why didn't you say in the first place that you were my wicked cousin Harry? And you said your name was James..."

"Well, my first name is Harry, but I go by my middle name which is James," explained James.

Tammy got up from the bench and followed James to the cab, dragging her suitcase behind her.

"My father talks about you every so often," she told James, "I like to listen to all the bad things you used to do. I always thought that I would love to meet you one day, but I never told Daddy. I don't think he'd like that idea so much."

James and Tammy crammed into the cab. Five people made it rather squished, but technically there was room for six.

James briefly told Peter, Ryan, and Jacob what was happening and they all agreed to drop Tammy off at her house.

"Maybe your relatives will invite us in," said Peter. He was surprised that James had any relatives. After all, James never talked about them.

"Er, maybe..." said James, doubting it. He didn't really want Peter to know about the Dursleys; it would complicate things. "They're not really relatives, just people I used to know... acquaintances..." James told Peter quietly enough that Tammy did not overhear. She was too busy introducing herself anyway.

"As long as we end up at one of the pubs Eugene suggested to us, it's fine with me," said Ryan. James assumed that "Eugene" was the cab driver.

Jacob was staring at James. "This should be interesting..." said Jacob. "Meeting your family, _James_. How _very_ interesting..."

"You know," said James, sensing danger at Jacob's interest in the Dursleys, "Why doesn't everyone just stay in the cab once we arrive at the house. It might be just a little less taxing on the parents."

The guys reluctantly agreed to this proposition, especially after Tammy said that she only wanted James to come in, not his friends, whom she deemed "strangers".

"Where are we going?" asked the driver.

James nudged Tammy to get her attention. "Tammy, where's your house?"

"I don't know," Tammy answered.

"But don't you live there?"

"I said that we had just _moved_ there. Do you expect me you memorize my address in one week?"

"Er, no, but it would have been useful..." said James.

"How about this," said Tammy, "You just drive around until I see something familiar, okay?"

Ryan sighed. "This will take a while..."

"Is there anything you remember it being close to? A park, a plaza, a store?" asked Peter, trying to help out.

"I think it was near a post office. And the street had trees. And my house is brown." Tammy smiled. "Does that help?"

"Loads," said James, rolling his eyes.

Tammy giggled. "You're funny..."

"Glad I could be of use," he answered. Tammy giggled more. "Eugene," asked James to the driver, "Could you start at the nearest post office? Maybe drive towards a residential neighborhood?"

"That I can do," said Eugene, pulling out of his parking spot and driving along the main street.

Ryan, Peter, and Jacob started arguing about the different pubs they could go to. It seemed to be a debate between the closer one and the one with the better drinks.

"Hey James..." asked Tammy quietly while the other guys were talking, "Can I call you Uncle James? I don't have any uncles and I really detest Aunt Marge."

"Detest? That's a big word," said James. "And one, that I must say, I wholeheartedly agree with."

"So you'll let me call you Uncle James? I think 'Dad's wicked cousin Harry who goes by James' would take too long to say."

"Um, okay," answered James. He did not see any harm in it. And the kid was kind of growing on him. He gave Tammy a smile. "I would be delighted to be your Uncle James."

Tammy's eyes lit up and smiled a large smile. "Thanks."

After a long while of driving and confused directions from Tammy, they finally reached a street that she recognized. Soon they reached her house.

"Thank goodness," said Jacob, "I thought we were going to be driving around London forever."

Tammy hopped out of the cab and grabbed James' hand.

"Uncle James will only take a minute," she told Peter, Ryan, and Jacob. "He'll be right back."

The guys gave odd looks to Tammy at her new nickname for James, but then nodded and went back to discussing soccer, which was a subject that had sprung from their pub argument.

"Um, do I really need to bring you up to the door? Can't one of the other guys do it?" asked James. "I haven't seen them for so long, and we weren't really on the best of terms.

"Oh, c'mon Uncle James," said Tammy brightly. "Think of the drama of it all! It will be so full of action and emotion! Mum and Dad are going to be absolutely furious when they see you!"

Tammy rang the doorbell while James waited nervously behind her. The door opened to reveal a rather bulky woman with a messy brown bun and tear-streaked cheeks.

"Hi Mum!" said Tammy cheerfully.

"Oh my darling!" The woman embraced Tammy tightly. "Oh my precious, precious darling! I missed you so much!"

A man came into view. He was larger than the woman and had bright blond hair.

"Hi, Dudley," said James quietly.

Both the woman and the man seemed to notice James for the first time. Tammy took this chance to enact the drama she had been planning.

"Mum, Dad, this is the nice gentleman who brought me home," said Tammy happily.

"Oh really?" Dudley asked dubiously.

"Yes."

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Tammy's mother. "Thank you for bringing my baby home!"

"It was... nothing," answered James awkwardly.

"Do I know you?" asked Dudley addressing James. "You look familiar..."

This was exactly the reaction Tammy wanted. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she smiled.

"You recognize him because he is your cousin, Dad! This is your wicked cousin Harry!" She was beyond enthusiastic and was practically jumping with excitement.

James turned pink and Dudley went from white to red quite rapidly.

"Won't you come in, Harry," said Dudley with clenched teeth. James knew he was only trying to avoid a scene outside of his house in the new neighborhood. Dudley would do anything, even invite his hated cousin in for tea, as long as it meant that the neighbors would think good of him.

"Actually," said James, warming up to the situation and now having quite a lot of fun standing on the doorstep and infuriating his cousin, "I go by James now, and I changed my last name to Potterson."

"How very creative..." said Dudley, turning more red with anger as it took longer and longer to get James off his doorstep.

"I know," answered James. Then, deciding to waste time and continue standing in full view of the neighborhood, he continued speaking. "I wanted to find the most unusual name there was. So I searched through scores and scores of baby name books trying to find the perfect name. And there were some pretty strange names in that book. Right with 'Charles' and 'John' were 'Lindsey' and 'Whitney'. I mean, if I had wanted a feminine name, I would have looked in the girls' section of the book, right? Oh, and did you know that 'Dudley' meant 'through the meadow'? Isn't that sweet of me? I took the time to look up the meaning of my very own cousin's name. And out of all the cousins, Dudley, I really must say that you are my favorite. What other cousin would endure being dropped in a snake's cage, being blasted by my letters from owls on the streets, being given a pig's tail..."

It was at that moment that Dudley grabbed James tightly and pulled him into the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

Tammy flashed a big smile at James. Apparently this was just what she had wanted. She seemed thrilled by James' cheeky actions and her parents' horrified looks.

James himself knew he was being rather rude, but he did have a lot of annoyance pent up inside of him from never speaking out at the Dursleys for the way they treated him, and being rude to Dudley on his own doorstep was... liberating, in a way.

"How dare you come to my house and be so-- so-- _freakish_?" asked Dudley furiously.

Tammy's mother stood in the corner holding Tammy's hand tightly. She must have heard a lot of bad things about James, because she looked rather frightened.

"Dudley," said James calmly. "What is your wife's name?"

Tammy answered for her father. "Mum's name is Doreen!"

James turned to the mother. "Hello Doreen." He stuck out his hand to shake hers. "I'm James Potterson. How are you?"

"Um, fine," answered Doreen quietly, tentatively shaking James' hand.

"You're just a freaky lit--" started Dudley.

James held up his hand for Dudley to stop speaking. "Dudley, can I tell you a story? It's a very special story. It might be nice to hear over a cup of tea..."

Doreen immediately turned for the kitchen, her manners taking precedence over her fears. She came back holding a tray with tea on it a motioned everyone to the couches in the sitting room.

"Thank you, Doreen," said James, taking a cup of tea. "Now on with the story. Once upon a time, there was a boy with no family. Sure, the boy had _relatives_, but he never had a true_ family_, as in people who would love him unconditionally. The relatives constantly got angry at the boy for being the person that he was and for attending a very special school. One day--"

"Does this story have a _point_?" interrupted Dudley. Doreen and Tammy glared at him, the former for his rude manners, and the latter for his interruption of the story.

James went on, ignoring Dudley question. "One day, something very unfortunate happened to the boy, who was now a young man, and he decided that he would rather not be the person his was and be part of the world that the school was part of. So he moved to a different country and became a new person. But when the man came to visit his old relatives a few years later, he was shocked and appalled by the things he heard they had been saying about him and by the way they acted upon his return. Instead of accepting him and giving him a second chance, they assumed that after fifteen years the man would be exactly the same as the boy he once was." James paused a moment. "Actually," he said, "The man's expectations for his return was almost identical to the way he was received, but that's beside the point. Plus, it doesn't give the story the same meaning as crushed hopes do."

Tammy giggled. James smiled kindly at her.

"So you're not a freak anymore?" asked Dudley haltingly.

"You understood the story?" asked James, feigning shock. "You gathered the moral? I can't believe it..."

Tammy laughed some more, which elicited a smile from Doreen. Her daughter's happiness also took precedence over her fears. Doreen was actually a very strong and brave woman, she just hid it very well.

"No, Dudley, I am no longer a 'freak', as you call it," said James softly. "I'm on a special medication that suppresses my--"

"Abnormalities?" supplied Dudley.

"Sure," replied James with a smile, "My 'abnormalities'. Anyway, I just thought that I'd let you know about my new situation, and that you don't have to refer to my as your 'wicked freakish cousin who attends a juvenile delinquent school' anymore."

"And are you living in London now?" asked Doreen.

"No, I'm actually just vacationing in England with some friends. I live in Canada now, in Calgary. I work as a school teacher."

"Oh Dad! Can Uncle James come over for Christmas?" asked Tammy. "I'd really like an uncle there with me so I wouldn't be so bored."

Dudley wrinkled his nose at Tammy's new term for James. Tammy and Doreen looked at Dudley expectantly, both of whom had taken a liking to James.

"He can't be here on Christmas eve," spluttered Dudley, looking back and forth between his daughter and his wife. "My Mum will be here. Think of what a shock it will give her!"

James had to agree. "Yeah, I don't really need to come over. I'm spending Christmas with my friends anyway."

Tammy looked at James very sadly.

"But I'll write down my address and phone number for you, and the hotel we are staying at," said James quickly, not able to bear the look coming from Tammy.

"That would be wonderful!" said Tammy. "I'll call you as soon as I find out when you can come and visit!"

Dudley did not seem too fond of the idea, but let James give Tammy and Doreen the information anyway.

James declined an invitation from Doreen to stay a while longer, telling her that his friends were waiting outside for him. Tammy gave James a hug before he left and Doreen waved goodbye as he walked out the door towards the cab. Dudley, on the other hand, was still in a bad mood.

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	25. Morning Meetings and Midnight Taxis

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione's plan to get Harry back is going into action.

**Author's note:** Yes, I know this is the most evil cliffhanger in the entire world, so for those of you who hate cliffhangers, wait until the next chapter is out before reading this chapter (underlining is for emphasis, so I don't end up with death threats and hate e-mails for the cliffie). It's mostly because this chapter would be way to long if I put the rest of what I've written on, so I had to cut it off somewhere (plus, I'm sadistic… 0) ). Anyhoo, I hope that you enjoy the chapter, even though it is outrageously short and had the world's best (worst) cliffhanger. Hey, you can't say I didn't warn you.

Chapter 25: Morning Meetings and Midnight Taxis

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Hermione was thrilled. This was the climax of her big plan. She had been planning meticulously for months. She wore dark black robes and had pulled her hair into a low, tight ponytail. She had two watches on her left wrist and a belt around her waist that held the SpySphere, a roll of papers, a pair of black gloves, and her wand. This was it. Her big hour. She was going to get her best friend back.

"Now, is everyone ready?" she asked, looking at each person in the eye.

Unfortunately for Hermione, George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny were the antithesis of all that she was trying to do right then.

Fred and George were each sprawled in their own chair, half asleep.

Ginny was examining her nails.

And Ron had his arms crossed and was looking at his wife with such a dubious expression it would have made even the most practical of plans seem outrageous.

"C'mon guys," said Hermione, trying to liven things up. "We're going to get _Harry_ back! Isn't it exciting? He can't hide forever." _Harry has made his point by now, _she thought. _He can't keep blaming me for what happened. Once he realizes that it was a complete mistake, he'll come back_. She was going to stop the grudge she knew Harry to be holding against her. She was going to put an end to the guilt that had been consuming her for so long. And above all, she was going to bring a well-loved figure back into her world.

"Yeah, we're thrilled," said Fred, yawning. "Now can we go back to bed?"

"I second that," said George. "Honestly, was it really necessary to wake us up a 5:00 am?"

"I thought the plan was going into action tonight anyway," said Ginny.

"Yes, it is happening tonight, but I just wanted to get an early start," explained Hermione.

"And she couldn't sleep, so she decided to bestow the same fate upon all of us," said Ron wryly.

Hermione glared at her husband. "I wanted everyone to synchronize their watches. So we would all be working at the same times."

"Isn't all this a little unnecessary?" asked Ron.

"No," said Hermione hotly. "It is all necessary. Every bit."

There was a pause while everyone grudgingly compared and reset their watches.

"Can we go now?" asked Fred finally.

Hermione waved her hand towards the door. "Yes, you are all dismissed. Don't forget-- we are going to meet here at 8:00 pm sharp."

Fred, George, and Ginny apparated away in a flash. Ron smiled weakly at his wife and headed back to the bed to sleep some more.

Hermione didn't notice her husband leaving the room. She was too busy working on the SpySphere to alert her when Harry would finish eating dinner. She smiled. If all went well, --which it _would_-- she was going to be seeing her old best friend in a matter of hours.

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James gave a quick knock on Peter and Sarah's hotel room door. He was meeting them in their room along with Jacob and Emma.

Sarah opened the door. "James! Well, don't you look handsome..."

"Uh, I took a shower?" said James slowly as he walked in.

"I really hope that doesn't mean you don't normally take showers," shouted Peter from the bathroom.

"Ew," said Emma, who was playing for Sarah on the video game, "That would be really gross, Jamesie."

"Well, hello to you too," James said smiling.

Emma turned to look at James. "Wow," she commented, "You really do look nicer than usual."

James reflected that the reaction he was getting from Sarah and Emma was mostly likely caused by his nerves. For some unexplainable reason, he was extremely nervous about this dinner. Maybe it was because he was going to be in a smaller group at night. Or maybe it was because he had just seen long-lost family members in a bizarrely coincidental situation, and he was worried that more long-lost people would find him. Whatever the reason, James was so nervous that he took two really hot showers, scrubbed his skin and hair way too hard, and used almost three bars of soap. And apparently, this rigorous cleansing process left him looking a bit nicer.

There was a knock on the door, and Sarah let Jacob in.

"Peter!" shouted Sarah, "Get out of the bathroom! We're all ready to go!"

Peter came out while adjusting his tie. "Alright, alright. It's only 8:00, we have nothing to worry about."

"Yes, but I'm hungry," said Sarah. "Are you ready?"

Peter slipped on his jacket. "All set."

"Good," said Sarah, "Let's go."

The restaurant was ready to close. It was almost midnight and there was nobody left eating. Well, almost nobody. There _was_ one table in the back. A group of five, and it was because of them that Italia was still open.

The manager massaged his eyes. "_Mamma mia._.." he groaned. A waiter walked up to him and patted his shoulder.

"_Che__ sfortuna!_" said the waiter, "I wanted to go home early tonight."

The manager looked at the waiter wearily. "They've been here for almost four hours. Four hours! _Mamma mia_! They've eaten and drank so much..."

"No worries. I'll ask them to leave right now, if you want."

"No, no. I'll do it." The manager sighed. "_Vado_, I go, I go..." He walked over to the table in the back.

"_Scusi_," he said, "But are you all finished? _Mi dispiace_, but we need to close soon..."

One of the women looked around the restaurant. "Hey, we _are_ the last ones here!" She was speaking loudly, as if she had had a little too much to drink.

A man looked down at his watch. "Oh, goodness," he said apologetically, "It's so late! I am so sorry! Of course we'll be leaving right away."

"_Grazie_, _signore_. Thank you very much." The manager looked relieved, to say the least.

The other four people continued talking. It seemed to the manager that the man he was currently talking to was the only sober one.

"Oh, and I think we paid the bill with the last bottle of wine here," said the man. "All we need now is our jackets from the coat room."

"_Va__ bene_, _signore_. I'll get them right away." The manager hurried off towards the coatroom. By the time he came back, the group was standing at the front door, laughing loudly.

"Here they are, _signore_." The manager held up the coats.

"Thank you," said the man from before. He handed the coats to their owners. "Do you close before midnight?"

"_Si__, signore_, but don't worry. We had things to be doing anyway."

"I am dreadfully sorry. But thank you so much for accommodating us."

"No, thank you."

The man smiled at the waiter. Then he called to his friends and herded them out the door.

"_Grazie, signore_," called the waiter. "_Arrividerci__ Buona sera!"_ As the customers closed the door behind them, the waiter massaged his temples. "_Che__ giornata!_"

The weather was cold outside. Sarah, Peter, Emma, and Jacob had all been slightly drunk inside the restaurant, but the freezing wind brought them to their senses.

"We really need a taxi," noted Peter.

"Yeah, but where are you going to find a taxi at midnight?" asked Sarah.

"Hey, it's not my fault we're standing in subzero temperatures in the middle of the night," said James. "I warned you not to order that last bottle of wine."

"You should have had some, Jamesie. Didn't you have anything to drink?" asked Emma.

"Two cokes."

"But the wine was so yummy!"

"Well, someone's got to stay sober. Besides, I don't like to drink."

Jacob was about to say something, but Peter cut him off. "Hey, look!" said Peter. "A taxi just pulled up!"

The group rushed over to where the taxi was sitting, but, unfortunately for them, someone else reached it first.

"Well, there goes our ride," said Sarah as the taxi drove away.

Emma and Sarah sat on a nearby bench. Emma sighed. "We're never--" she started, before suddenly yelling, "Taxi at three o'clock!"

The group looked to their right and saw another taxi.

"Well, this is Leicester Square," said Sarah as the group headed quickly towards the car. "It's a pretty popular place."

But right as the group reached the car, another man came running from out of the blue, hopped into the taxi, and told a very surprised taxi driver to step on it.

"Bastard!" muttered Sarah, "Another red-headed man stole our taxi."

James did not like the idea of two redheaded people in close vicinity to him. True, it could be a coincidence, but anything strange that happened around James was generally not a coincidence.

"Um, another taxi pulled up over there," said Jacob tiredly. "But I'll bet you five-- Oh, it's already happened... a red-headed girl just took it. What _is_ it with all the red-heads?"

James nervously walked a few steps to the right and pulled out a bottle of water he was carrying in his coat pocket. _Better be safe than sorry_, he thought. James quickly swallowed a couple of pills while his friends were looking for more taxis.

Suddenly a taxi screeched around the corner and pulled up near James. James turned around to call to his friends. "Hey, I think someone is getting out of--"

James was cut off by the person who was getting out of the taxi. James was grabbed from behind and a cloth was put over his nose and mouth. James suddenly felt sleepy and closed his eyes as his was dragged into the car, the rest of his sentence dying on his lips.

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	26. Blindfolds and Tests

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione's plan to get Harry back is going into action, and James isn't too happy.

**Author's note:** My chi was horribly off once I realized that my story was going to have to be longer than 25 chapters, but I dealt with it and decided that 27 chapters was okay, too. Then I figured that you all would probably want a faster update because of that terrible cliffhanger, and since my chi was already imbalanced, I just decided to update what I had instead of trying to fit it all into one chapter and taking longer to update. So, once again, there is another cliffhanger, but not as bad as the last one (so, technically, it could still be considered evil since the last once was amazingly-super-evil). And now, without further ado, the chapter…

Chapter 26: Blindfolds and Tests

----------------

James awoke to the sound of arguing. He was tied to a chair, blindfolded, and had a massive headache, but it seemed that his hearing was fine.

"You fell _asleep_?" asked a feminine voice angrily.

"You're the one who woke us up at five this morning," said a man's voice.

"My own husband falls asleep! You were the one who was supposed to be ready to drive the taxi over to the restaurant on time! It was Fred who had to get you! I've only been planning this for _how long_?"

The name "Fred" made James even more nervous than any sadistic kidnapping ever could. _Just relax_, thought James. _There are probably lots of kidnappers named Fred. There are lots of Freds in the world_...

The man's voice was apologetic. "Look, I found him, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but it was lucky everyone else took the other taxis. Your other brother had a close call, he barely stopped the group from getting into one."

"I said I was _sorry_. What more do you want?"

"I want him to wake up," said the woman, her voice filled with impatience. "How much of that stuff did Fred put on that cloth?"

"Don't know."

James could hear someone walking back and forth. "It's been almost an hour. Should I get the others? They're eating at the McDonald's down the street."

"Who gave them the right money?"

"I did," said the woman. "But it doesn't matter, that was the rendezvous spot."

"Wow, you sure are prepared," commented the man.

The woman sounded angry. "You were supposed to have read all that in your manual."

There was a pause.

"You know," began the man, "Why don't I get the others... I'm sure he'll wake up soon."

----------------

Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob had heard James' voice and had turned around just in time to see James being dragged into the car. They stared in shock at the retreating taxi, watching as the car swerved a few times before lurching to the left and turning down a side street.

"Did-- Did-- Someone just-- Was-- Did--" Sarah could not even begin.

"Yeah... I think so..." said Peter slowly.

"You mean..." asked Emma.

Peter nodded his head, dazed.

"Someone just _stole_ Jamesie!" shrieked Emma. "What the hell did they do that for! I'm going to _kill_ them! Just wait until I get _my _hands on them! I'll give them--"

Jacob interrupted. "Emma, calm down. We've got to think about this logically. What did the car look like?"

Emma was breathing deep and murderous breaths, staring daggers at where the taxi had turned down the side street.

"Black... a taxi shape..." said Peter.

"There might have been--" began Sarah. "I mean, I thought I saw an '82' on the back."

Jacob put his pointer finger up, like a detective finding the last clue. "And I noticed that there wasn't a sign on top for vacant/not vacant. We've got find this car."

"Taxi!" cried Emma, pointing. "Tax-i!"

The group sprinted towards a taxi that was dropping off a passenger. They all climbed into the vehicle, startling the previous passenger who was still paying.

"Driver, this is a matter of life and death!" said Jacob, "We need to turn left on that side street ahead of us there-- see it?-- and we have to find a car that looks like a taxi but with a small 82 on the back and without sign on the roof! And hurry!"

"That is the oddest thing I've heard all day," said the taxi driver, tipping his hat to the passenger who had just paid.

"Just go! Our friend is trapped in that car!"

"Alright, alright," the driver grumbled. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."

And with that, the taxi drove off to where Jacob directed.

----------------

The blindfold was ripped off James' face. James, using a tactic probably not seen by kidnappers very often, kept his eyes squeezed shut and his chin tucked down on his neck.

"Wow, do you think it's really him?" asked a man, different from the one at the beginning.

"Are you nuts?" asked the woman's voice (which seemed more and more familiar to James). "Of course it's him. Just look at him!"

"And how do you suggest we do that?" asked a voice that might have been the same man. "I mean, he's all scrunched up. His hair is covering a good portion of his face and he's looking down."

"His eyes are squeezed shut," said another woman's voice, softer than the first. "And I don't see a scar anywhere. Besides, his hair is the wrong color."

"It's easy enough to dye hair, don't you think?" asked the first woman.

"Well, are you sure this is the right guy?"

The woman was once again annoyed. "Would you all just _look_ at him? His whole body language screams--"

"I can hear you, you know. I'm not dumb. And I'm not an exotic animal in the zoo, either."

The room was suddenly quiet after James spoke. James was rather annoyed at being talked about and he had spoken without realizing it. He had really just voiced his internal thoughts, but he was angry at himself for talking. Now he would have to face his kidnappers. _At least it got them to shut up_, thought James.

"And just what have you got to say for yourself mister?" asked the woman, sounding even more annoyed and angry. "You disappeared all together! Without a word to any of us! You deserve a severe beating. I bet you can't even think of the words to say for your despicable conduct!"

James, who still had his eyes shut (the logic being that if you can't see it, it's not there), cleared his throat. "Um, can I have a glass of water?"

James heard someone walking away, while the woman groaned loudly.

"You are unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! Don't you have anything _profound _to say? And stop closing your eyes! Open them! Are you nuts or something? I can't believe..."

James heard the footsteps coming back. The woman was still talking, but James had tuned it out. It was easy enough to do if you had heard the lecture before.

The woman paused to take a breath while someone handed James a glass.

"Here's your water," said a man's voice.

"Thanks," said James.

The woman started talking again, but James was too busy looking for his pills to listen. Unfortunately, he had a sneaking suspicion that he had once known these people, and if he wanted to even remotely suggest that they were wrong about him, he had to make sure nothing... _unusual_ happened.

James finally found his bottle and started to rapidly swallow the pills.

"And what? you just expect that we'll take you back with open arms? Oh, no. You are going to pay for doing so much damage to all of us and society. Yes, you have a debt to society, and it's way over due."

James was still swallowing the pills, and if he had had his eyes open he would have noticed very strange looks coming from the people in the room, excepting the woman who was currently speaking, as she was too busy to notice.

"The debt has to be paid, and you are the one who is going to pay it. Do you even know how long everyone has been looking for you? You can't just leave a whole world behind. It's a stupid thing to do. And I thought you were smart, ha! What a laugh..."

James realized with a sinking heart that the pill bottle was almost empty, and then, with just a few more swallows, it _was_ empty, along with the tall glass of water. James had never done that before, _never_. He had never finished a whole bottle of pills before the bottle had a chance to refill itself.

James sighed and tried to lean back in his chair, the ropes making it rather difficult. His eyes were still closed, but he could sense that he must be under very bright lights.

"I mean, when I saw you that day," continued the woman, "I thought that you would be--" she stopped. "Did you just swallow that whole bottle of pills?" she asked disgustedly. "That is incredibly unhealthy."

But James had to disagree. The power inside of him had been reduced to such a level that he wondered how he had ever lived before this. He felt free and glad that he could no longer tell that he had an ability, he could not even pinpoint the location of the source anymore. He felt healthier than he had ever felt before. James supposed that this was how some of Ciara's customers became too dependent on and attached to the pills.

"And have you opened your eyes yet?" asked the woman. "What's wrong with you? Don't you want to see your old friends?"

It was now or never, James figured. Face a very angry world, or stay happily in denial. Egypt won.

"But, I don't know you," James said innocently.

There was silence.

"Really, I honestly don't know you," continued James. "I'll even open my eyes, but I'm telling you, I don't think I know any of you." James took a moment to mentally prepare himself, and then he opened his eyes.

And in front of him he saw Hermione, looking exactly the same since the day at the bakery, albeit slightly more irritated. James tried as hard as he could to keep a look of innocent confusion on his face as he saw his old friend Ron and the other Weasleys, Fred, George, and Ginny. It was like looking at his family, and it hurt him to stay so callous.

"I really think we got the wrong person," said Fred. "His eyes are different, his hair is different, he has no scar or glasses, and he sounds as if he's from the colonies."

"I'm from Canada, not the US," said James.

"Whatever," said George, "But I agree. This has got to be the wrong person."

Oddly enough, the twin's doubt gave James more courage and the hope that he just might be able to get away.

"And personally," said James, "I don't know why you kidnap random people off the streets, but I, for one, am going to report it to the police."

Hermione rolled his eyes. "Harry, no one is falling for your tricks."

"I don't know," said Ginny, "He sounds pretty convincing to me. Your SpySphere could have picked up the wrong conversation, or something. I think I'm with Fred and George on this one."

"So we can go now, right?" asked Fred. "I'm tired, and it seems we've got the wrong person. What do you think, Ron?"

All eyes turned to Ron, who had been silently and intently studying James ever since James' blindfold came off.

Ron looked thoughtful. "I'd say it would be a better idea to let Harry live the life he seems to desperately want, instead of the life my wife would like for him."

James was taken aback by this oddly kind statement, and was so surprised that he just managed to whisper in a sort of wonderment, "My name isn't Harry."

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door, startling everyone from the quietness.

"Open up!" shouted a voice (most likely Peter's, James thought). "We know you've got James in there! Open up!"

James shook his head and closed his eyes. James was willing to bet his right arm that things would start going steadily downhill once his friends entered the room. Sure, their motives were well meant, but they knew information that would be damning for James if spoken in front of Hermione and Ron. _And I had been doing so well on my own, too..._ thought James. _They were just about to let me go..._

The banging continued until one of the twins calmly walked over and opened the door.

The group outside looked startled for a moment, before a voice in the back called out, "The redheads have taken Jamesie captive!" and the group burst in.

"James! You're alive!" said Sarah, running to give James a hug. After pulling away from the hug, Sarah observed the state James was in. "Ropes! What kind of people _are_ you? James is a sweet, caring individual, and he would do nothing to harm anyone! How dare you?"

Emma gave a shrill yell and ran up to one of the twins, grabbing Fred's neck. "I'm going to hurt you so badly you'll be blue for a week! You're a cruel, vicious, weed of a human! How dare you hurt Jamesie!"

George ran over to save his brother from Emma, pulling at her waist to get her to let go of Fred.

Of course, this only enraged Jacob, who ran over and pulled on George to get him to let go of his wife.

Ginny then started pounding on Jacob's back, worried for her brother, while Emma continued yelling creative profanities and Sarah started yelling at Hermione.

It was a full-scale war, and James could do nothing but watch, until he noticed that neither Ron nor Peter were fighting. They both looked thoughtful, which was unnerving to James.

"Psst, Peter!" James whispered, loudly enough for his friend to just hear him. "Peter! Untie me while nobody's looking!"

Peter walked slowly over to James. "What?"

"I said, untie me while nobody is looking."

"But James," asked Peter, staring at the fight, "Don't you know these people?"

That was a bad sign, James could tell. "No! And be quiet, would you? I don't want them to see you untying me!"

"But I'm almost positive that that is the woman you saw in the bakery," said Peter, pointing at Hermione. "What was her name? It sounded funny, but it was close to a normal name. Helen? Barbara? No..."

This was definitely not good. James started wiggling as hard as he could, trying to free himself from the ropes before Peter could figure out anything.

"Minny? Audrey? Harmony? Helena?..."

James could feel the beginnings of a rope burn forming around his wrists, but he kept wiggling. The battle in front of him raged on, until, to James' horror, Ginny bit Emma when Fred's face started turning blue, and Emma shrieked so loudly that the fighting stopped and the room fell quiet.

And Fate was obviously angry with James that night, because as soon as the room fell quiet, Peter figured out who the woman was.

"Hermione! That was it! Hermione!" said Peter triumphantly. He turned towards Hermione and pointed at her. "Look, don't you think kidnapping James is a lame idea? I mean, I know there have been bad things in the past, but I really think this is a bad way to get revenge."

Hermione blinked a few times. "Harry told you what happened?"

"Of course he told us," said Peter. "We're his friends. We're _James'_ best friends. He wouldn't hide such an important part of his past from us!"

James was too shocked to say anything. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he tried to make the words come out, and the blood drained from his face as the conversation continued.

"Well," said Hermione, "You aren't shocked or afraid? Or curious? Did he tell you the _whole_ story?" she asked suspiciously.

"Of course," said Peter indignantly, "And, lady, I'm sorry for what happened to your family after the trial, but James was only doing his job and I really think you should stop blaming him for their deaths."

There was a pause.

Hermione cleared her throat. "There was a trial?"

_Not good,_ was the only thought running through James' head. _Not good._

"Yes," answered Peter. "And I said that--"

"But you see, my family has never been affected by the trials I've been in. And my family is still alive." Hermione smiled sweetly.

That got Fred, George, and Ginny's attention. They watched Peter try to figure out just who was telling the truth.

"But weren't you a witness to a trial where James was the defense attorney?" Peter asked, confused.

"Hm, James must have told you the _wrong_ past." Hermione's sweet smile was beginning to look eerily triumphant. "Funny how that works out."

Peter turned towards James. "Can you help me with this? I mean, that _is_ what you said, right? That you were a defense attorney?"

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How he was ever going to get out of this one was anyone's guess. And it was strange, but he still wanted to at least try to escape his old friends than just admit then and there to who he was. Because to admit who he was took the will not only to show other people what he was trying to escape, but also show himself was he was trying to escape (which was, essentially, himself). _I am so messed up_… thought James. But he would not surrender.

"Yes, I was a defense attorney," said James.

"Ha. See? He _was_ telling the truth," said Peter.

James wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Peter was being such a supportive friend, but unfortunately, he was fighting the wrong battle.

"Then how do you explain his knowledge of who I am?" asked Hermione reasonably.

"Ooh, tough question," said George. "I'd like to see Harry talk himself out of this one."

"His name is _James_," said Sarah.

There was silence as everyone turned to James, waiting to hear his answer to Hermione's question. Yes, that question was a problem for James. Potential explanations for the reason he knew Hermione started running through his head.

The silence was becoming oppressive, and James finally shrugged. "Um, I can't?" he said helplessly. _Stupid_, James thought to himself. _I thought of how many explanations? And this was the one I chose? Definitely stupid..._

"Uh-huh. I thought so," said Hermione. "So do you admit to being Harry Potter, then?"

_No_, thought James, but he thought it wiser just to stay quiet.

"No," said Sarah, "You have it all wrong. _James_ is James Potterson. You obviously got a mix-up in the phone book, or something."

"Well, does your 'James' have a scar on his forehead?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Sarah, "I would have noticed that."

"But James does have scars on his back," said Peter. "Does your 'Harry' have that?"

"No way," said Fred. "With all the times we've had to carry him from the quidditch pitch to the infirmary with a torn uniform, we would have noticed that."

"I know!" said Emma, "We'll run a test. If James has a scar on his forehead, he's Harry. But if he has scars on his back, we get to go back home. Deal?"

"Fine, it's a deal," said Hermione, her confident smile shattering all James' hopes.

------------------

You guys were all so brave to read the cliffie chapter, and so incredibly sweet for not killing me for writing it (because I know that cliffie warrants slow torture). You guys rock!

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	27. An Ending and A Story

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione's plan to get Harry back is going into action, and James isn't too happy. Final chapter.

**Author's note:** Whoo-hoo! Here is a present from me to you: an incredibly long and hopefully exciting last chapter to "Hidden Beneath". I worked really hard to get it up fast. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 27: An Ending and a Story

----------------

Both groups started to advance on James, and he once again renewed his efforts to break free.

"C'mon, Jamesie," said Emma. "Just show us your back and we can go."

A chorus of agreements came from James' friends.

"Yeah," said Sarah, "It's getting late and I would like to leave. This is getting way out of proportion and these people have got to be reported to the police."

James could feel the ropes around his wrist loosening as the knots became smaller, freeing more rope to make the loops bigger. He knew that with just a few more pulls he could free his hands and be able to get out of the chair.

"I, personally, don't see why you're making such a fuss," said Hermione. "You don't even have to show the scar on your forehead to prove to _me_ who you are. I know who you are, you just have to admit it."

James freed his hands. "No!" he snarled as he jumped up from the chair. "_I_ don't have to do anything!" He took a step backwards. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. Just leave me alone!" He kept taking steps backwards until he back was pressed against the wall.

A semicircle was formed around him, the people in the room seeming to bear down on him.

"I can't even see his scar from here..." said Ginny, with surprise in her voice.

"But there's a lock of hair in the way," noted Hermione. She stared at James. "I don't know how you did it, but somehow there is always something blocking your scar. Which means--"

Peter interrupted. "James, just show us your back and we can go. Let's just get this over with."

Peter's words made some sense to James. After all, if he showed them his back first, then he would be free to go and could leave before they even had a chance to see his forehead. It was the lesser of two evils (both would cause him to remember the past), but it was the only option that would let him avoid confronting Ron and Hermione.

"Fine," said James, a bit weakly. "Fine. I'll show you my back. Then can I leave?"

Hermione, mistaking the weakness of James' voice for evidence that he was lying, smiled and said, "Sure. You can leave as soon as I see those supposed 'scars'."

James quickly unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and took it off. Then, feeling more like a freak in the zoo than a human being, turned around.

There were gasps from his friends (excepting Peter, who had already seen the scars) and the Weasleys, followed by a breathless "It can't be!" from Hermione.

"Now, can I please, _please_, leave?" asked James, turning around slowly. His face was red with humiliation and he did not dare look into the faces of those around him.

"But-- but-- where did you get those?" asked Hermione.

"I was in a fire when I was little," lied James quietly, putting his shirt back on loosely.

"Alright," said Peter after a short silence, "You and your little friends have had your fun," he said to Hermione. "We're leaving now. C'mon James."

"No!" said Hermione in desperation. "I know your Harry, I just _know_ it! You can't leave. Let me just see his forehead, I know there will be a scar there!"

Sarah was starting to get annoyed at Hermione's antics. "Look lady, you've not only kidnapped our friend, but you've also made him extremely embarrassed and upset. Now if you don't let us leave, I'm going to bring the biggest lawsuit against you that I can find! So get out of our way."

Hermione stood shocked for a moment or two, until her desperation became too strong. "Fred, George, grab him!"

Luckily for Hermione, Fred and George were now just as curious as she was, and they followed her orders.

James gave a loud "Oof!" as the twins pinned him to the wall.

"Just what do you think you're doing!" shouted Emma. "Let go of him! Let go of him!"

"Why don't you just _wait_ two seconds and let me do what I want?" shouted Hermione back. "Just two seconds, that's all I ask."

Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed Emma before she could say another word. "Just let her do it," said Sarah. "It will go faster. She won't find anything anyway."

As Hermione came a step closer to James, panic rose in his chest. He looked to Jacob with pleading in his eyes. Jacob looked back sorrowfully. He knew what would happen to James if Hermione saw the scar, but he also knew that the moment he said anything, James' past would be discovered. And James could see in Jacob's eyes the sadness he felt at James' predicament, and James knew that Jacob would give the world to be able to stop Hermione, even if he was a little annoying about James' secret at times.

James looked back at Hermione with near-hysteria. She was reaching out her hand towards James to push back his hair.

"Please-- Hermione-- don't do this," said James with a trembling voice. "Please don't do this to me."

Hermione's hand was touching James' hair.

James squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to die or break free from the twins' strong arms. Hermione had to be stopped. Every fiber of James' body and soul was screaming it, _Stop Hermione_. James did not want to face what had happened. He could not. Why? Why could he not stay happily in denial? Why was Hermione being so ruthless, so unfeeling? James was getting desperate as he could feel Hermione start to pull back his hair. _Stop her! Stop her!_

Suddenly, the power inside James welled up. Despite the all the pills he had swallowed, the power in him forced its way out to obey the commands of James' very soul.

A series of explosions went off around the room. Anything electrical blew up with sparks and smoke. A florescent light from the ceiling flickered and fell, almost hitting Hermione. A white light glowed from James, making the momentarily dark room suddenly bright.

The power flooding from James squeezed his chest and his heart. His lungs could not get enough air and his head felt like it would explode. His muscles screamed and his ears pounded.

Suddenly, the power in James went dull, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping.

The room was dark. After a moment of tense silence, someone said a spell and the room was lit up again.

Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob stood back, all of them shocked and the first three frightened. Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny were also shocked, standing rigidly in place, staring at James. Only Ron was brave enough to feel compassion and sympathy towards James and reach out to a friend-- a brother-- whom he had not really seen in ten years.

"Are you okay?" asked Ron, gently helping James to his feet.

"Why?" was the only thing James said.

He wearily made his way to the chair that was still in the center of the room. The power in him was now at its full level. James could feel the power in him like a weight, and suddenly he could sense the power levels of the people in the room (magical or not), their intentions, and the remains of the last spell they cast (Hermione: a tracking spell, Ron: a cleaning spell, Ginny: a light-casting spell, George: a repair spell, and Fred: a singing hex). He was overwhelmed by all the feelings he was receiving and felt ready to weep when he realized that this power in him had finally defeated the pills and could no longer be contained. Ciara had never made pills for an E level before, and James knew that he could not easily use the pills again.

He sat down heavily and stared straight ahead, defeated. "Why?"

Hermione walked over to James. "We did this to save you, Harry."

James stood up slowly and faced Hermione.

"Excuse me?" Rage filled James' heart and a fire started dancing in his eyes. "_Excuse me_? To save _me_? That's bullshit, Hermione, and you know it! You only did this you save yourself! I have tried so hard to escape all this, and look at what you've done! You've destroyed my life!"

James' voice turned harsh and biting. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Hermione. You're the hero of the year. Congratulations, you rescued the savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, from his life of happiness, to bring him home to a world he abhors."

In his fit of anger, James pushed his hair up to reveal the scar on his forehead. He pointed to it angrily. "There's the stupid scar. Are you happy? That's all my life has ever been: that scar. All my problems, all my embarrassment, all my suffering have come from it. And now, the destruction of the one life I loved! It's gone, and all because of this damn scar! Now go give yourself a stupid metal for you damn heroics, Hermione, and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

James sat back down in the chair and put his head in his hands. Hermione stared, her mouth open. "Harry, I'm so sorry..." She touched his back lightly. "Harry?"

"Don't touch me," said James threateningly. "Just-- go away."

The Weasleys and James' friends stood quietly in the corner, mouths agape at the scene unfolding in front of them. Hermione took a few steps back to join them.

James felt lost in a world of Harry and James. Not knowing who he was. The delicate life he had worked so hard to make had crashed down around him and he felt as if he had nowhere to go, no one to trust.

"I think we should take James home now," said Jacob quietly.

"You can use my taxi," offered Ron.

Peter finally spoke up. "Just a moment. Nobody's going anywhere, until I have some questions answered."

"Why don't we do that tomorrow, Peter?" said Jacob. "James is obviously tired from this ordeal..."

Peter rounded on Jacob. "Aren't you curious? I mean, I don't even know who's telling the truth here! And too many unusual things have happened for me walk away this time. No. I need some answers."

Emma and Sarah agreed.

"All I'm saying is that tomorrow might be better for everyone here. A good night's sleep and tempers in check will make everyone calmer," said Jacob.

"You sound like you don't want to hear an explanation," said Emma suspiciously. "Do you know something we don't? Or are you just looking out for the welfare of the world?"

"Why would I know anything that you don't?" asked Jacob nervously.

"Because you and Jamesie have been acting strange ever since our wedding," said Emma. "I do have observation skills, you know."

Jacob looked over at James, who was sitting with his back to the group. It was like he was not even hearing their conversation. He just sat, staring at the wall, dazed.

"James?" said Jacob. "James? Do you want me to explain for you?" He figured that the truth had to come out at some point.

James waved his hand indifferently and mumbled something.

"Okay then," said Jacob. "I will explain it."

"I knew it!" said Emma loudly. "You are in league with Jamesie! You are both plotting something! And to think I married you!"

Jacob rolled his eyes at his wife's predictable over-the-top reaction. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

That quieted her down, and everyone (excepting James) came up around Jacob, waiting for his explanation with bated breath.

Jacob sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. "Now, I don't know much," he began, "But what I do know I will tell you. I know who James is only because he told us, and I was shown a book that had a biography of him in it."

"That's dumb," interrupted Emma. "Nobody wrote a book about Jamesie and he told us that he was a defense attorney."

"If you would only listen to me, I could finish explaining..." said Jacob, slightly peeved. "If you recall, James had three histories in total."

"The one I made up," said Peter. "The one he told us, and...?"

"The other one he told us, about being a person named Harry Potter."

"But he made that up," said Sarah, confused.

"No, he told the truth and we all laughed," said Jacob. "We essentially _forced_ him to create a new history because he couldn't prove the real one."

"But you can't possibly think we're stupid enough to believe that story about 'being the most powerful wizard' or whatever," said Sarah. "It's obviously not true."

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "Wait, let me get this straight. Harry-- he _told_ you? He actually _told_ you his real history and you guys didn't _believe_ him?" She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Oh, that is too precious! And you call yourselves his friends..."

"And who are you guys?" said Jacob angrily. "_You_ call yourself _his_ friend? That's a laugh. You kidnapped him. You made him miserable. You destroyed his life. Yeah, you're a _great_ friend."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "We knew Harry for his entire childhood, and if you think--"

"I know how long you've known James, and I also know that your friendship was rather frayed in the last few years you knew him," said Jacob. "We've known him for over ten years, making that just about the same amount of time you've known him. So don't use that superior tone of voice when you talk to us, because we are just as qualified to care about him as you are."

There was a stunned silence as the truth in Jacob's statement sunk into Hermione and the Weasley's heads, and as Sarah and Emma nodded approvingly at Jacob. Hermione's tone of voice was starting to bother them, too.

"But Jacob," said Peter, "_How_ do you know all this?"

"I know this because my niece was admitted to the Toronto School of Magic while I was visiting her, and she told me about James. She was the one who lent me the book, and all I did was remember what James told us about himself and asked him about it. So he told me and I believed him." Jacob's tone turned apologetic. "But please don't get mad at me. I tried as hard as I could to persuade James to tell you guys again, but he wouldn't let me. I'm sorry, but I had made a promise not to tell."

"So James is a..." started Sarah.

"A wizard," said Hermione, unable to stop herself. She glared in James's direction. "He is a wizard who has forgotten his debt to society."

"Okay, that's it," said Ron, stepping into the situation. "I have just about had it with you self-righteous attitude, Hermione. _Harry_ has a debt to _society_? What about society's debt to him? Or have you forgotten what he did so long ago? I think you have gone too far this time. Harry has been through a lot, and though I don't exactly know what happened to him, I _do_ know that it wasn't a romp in the meadows. So lay off the poor man, okay? And stop this stupid inquisition."

Hermione became quiet after her husband's outburst.

"Well, if she's going to stop, I'm going to continue," said Peter, after a pause. "And for the first question, what the hell is a wizard? And please don't tell me you believe in magic..."

Hermione was about to speak but Ron stopped her. "A wizard is a man who uses magic, and yes, it is real. You saw what happened when Harry was pushed to the edge... his power within him took over, and the power is his ability to do magic."

Sarah crossed her arms. "Okay, I have an open mind. Let's see you prove that you can do this 'magic', and no card tricks, okay?"

Ginny took out her wand. "Okay, just watch." She pointed her wand to the ceiling and repaired the fluorescent lights. She transfigured some chairs stacked in the corner into a couch. And she turned Sarah's dress a hideous plaid pattern. "Do you need any more proof?" Ginny asked sweetly.

Sarah, Peter, and Emma just stood there, staring at Sarah's dress, with their mouths open.

"Cool," said Emma. "Super cool. _Awesomely_ cool. Hey," she said, turning to Ginny, "While you're at it, can you take this stain out of my dress? It's been annoying me for days..."

Ginny waved her wand and said a spell. "No problem."

"Thanks," said Emma, rubbing the spot where the stain used to be. "You rock."

"Well, you happen to have an extremely cute dress, and I'd hate to see it ruined."

Emma pointed to Ginny's clothes. "Actually, I really must complement those awesome robes you're--"

"Wait," Peter interrupted. "Just wait a moment. If James is a wizard and all the things you've said is true, then he is _not_ named James Potterson, and he's _not_ a defense attorney, and he's _not_ in a fight with his relatives over a will, and he's _not_ an actor look-alike, and I'm also willing to bet that he's _not_ burnt from a fire when he was little, and he's _not_ taking pills to cure allergies. And this all means that..." Peter turned towards James and advanced on him. "You lied," Peter said, pointing an accusing finger in James' face. "You lied about everything."

"Someone's a bucket of brains..." mumbled one of the twins to the other.

Peter didn't hear. "I trusted you and knew you for ten years. My family and I took you in and treated you like a long lost relative. And you've had the effrontery to pretend to be my best friend even though you had been _lying_ to me all this time!"

"If it makes you feel any better," said Hermione, "He lied to us as well..."

"I don't get it..." said Peter angrily. "How do you _live_ with yourself, knowing that your whole life is one big _lie_?"

That shook James out of his daze. "You don't know anything about me," hissed James, looking into Peter's eyes. "You have no right to accuse me so callously of lying. Sure, I was not always honest about my past, but I never lied about whom I was trying to be and what I was trying to accomplish. Lying about my past was the only was to create an honest future."

"An honest _future_?" shouted Peter. "Did that future ever include telling you're friends about your _other life_?"

James stood up. "Did you even _listen _to Jacob? Are you _listening_ to me? I told you all about me having been a wizard! And everyone _laughed_. You got angry at me... told me to stop fooling around and tell you the _truth_. What I _supposed_ to do, Peter? Keep telling you over and over that I had been a wizard and have you keep getting angrier and angrier?"

"You could have just shown us magic like your friend over there."

"Oh yeah," said James sarcastically, "Because _that_ would have worked. The minute I started doing magic was the minute the ministry officials were going to come bursting through the doors to take me back. They already had the bakery monitored and I know they had a tag on me. I couldn't prove it to you, Peter, because then I would be taken away from all of you and my life in Canada."

"Well, at least we would have known the truth!" said Peter, too angry to properly realize what he was saying.

"Well, I guess you're about to get what you want," spat James. "I'm sure the ministry has already detected me and is on their way. They probably would have been here sooner if it wasn't for how late it is."

Peter just glared in response (since he really knew nothing about the ministry and therefore couldn't respond) and sat down on the sofa.

"How do you know the ministry had a tag on you?" asked Hermione.

"Oh please, Hermione," said James. "I was on the committee responsible for creating those tags. I thought you would know that."

"Well, seeing as you never told me anything while you were working, I don't see how I could," answered Hermione curtly.

Ron walked over to James. "Harry, do you want me to drive you somewhere before the ministry comes? It wouldn't be a problem..."

James looked at Ron in surprise, and then relented. "That would be nice... but I want to stay away from any wizarding forms of travel."

"Don't worry, the car is completely non-magical. I could drive you to that place that will fly you across the ocean."

"The airport?" asked James.

"Yeah. And then I'll drive the car back here so the ministry can't trace it, even through muggle ways."

"'Muggle' had better not mean 'criminal' or something," said Sarah, "Because right now it sounds as if you're running from the law or something."

"No," said Hermione quickly, "He's just running from an entire would, which, of course, is _much_ easier." She threw a glare in her husband's and James' direction.

"Well, you're certainly not making _this_ situation any easier, Hermione," said Ron. "Just let Harry leave. As much as I, too, would like him back, it's clear to me that it would be better for him to just leave."

Hermione looked over to Harry, and saw that even though he tried to maintain a cold and angry attitude, he was really just a frightened person. It reminded her of seeing him the summer after Cedric died, when he had looked at Hermione and Ron with fear, fear because he knew that it was his loved ones that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would target.

Hermione summoned up all her bravery and compassion inside her, and said, "Fine, let him leave. He can go."

Ron, Ginny, and the twins blinked a few times in surprise. Even James' angry gaze softened for a moment.

"But Jamesie can't just leave!" cried Emma. "What would we do?"

"I think it's clear that _some_ people will do just fine without me," answered James, looking pointedly at Peter.

"I don't want to be friends with a criminal who lies to his supposed best friends," said Peter harshly. "What did you do? Wreak murder and mayhem on one world, and figure, "What the hell, I can always escape into another...' You were just using us, James. We were just people to hide behind so you wouldn't get caught."

Ron turned red with anger. "That's not true," he said. And before he could continue, James interrupted.

"Sure it's true," said James coldly. "I guess it's time to tell the truth. I'm a wizard, I'm a criminal, I'm running from the law, and I will not be returning to Canada. Feed my cat for me."

James didn't know what had come over him, but he was tired of people constantly accusing him and telling him who he was. It was just easier to agree than to defend himself. Besides, if his friends thought of him as a criminal, they would be mad at him and it would be easier for James to leave them. It's always easier to part after a fight than during the good times.

James started for the door, but was stopped when a hand caught his arm.

"Oh, no," said Peter, "You're not going anywhere."

"What do you care whether I leave or not?" asked James, pushing Peter's arm away. "You're not even a part of the wizarding world. You shouldn't even--"

But James was cut short when someone started pounding on the door. "Hello?" called a voice. "Anyone in there? We have detected a power surge with muggles in the area. We are coming in!"

"No," said James faintly, taking a step backwards. "No..." He could sense that there was a fair amount of wizards and witches outside that door, and that their intentions were not exactly in his best interest.

The rest of the people all stared in shock at the door. Hermione and the Weasleys were nervous because they knew Harry would be taken away from them and subjected to an even more intense inquiry than they gave him. Jacob, Emma, and Sarah were scared because they had very little idea of who "the ministry" was (even Jacob knew very little), but, whatever it was, it didn't sound very good for James. And though Peter felt anger towards James, in his heart he was frightened for James because Peter saw how frightened James was himself.

Someone unlocked the door with a spell and a group of about fifteen aurors burst into the room. They had their wands out just in case there was a danger of some sort.

James yanked himself out of Peter's grasp and moved to the center of the room. He stood with his knees slightly bent and his arms out, ready to run if he saw the chance. James' friends, Hermione, and the Weasleys gathered behind him, frightened for what would happen next.

James saw the head auror raise his wand and begin to whisper a spell. The poor auror didn't even get to finish.

Faster than one could blink, James knocked out the auror with a stunning spell and cast a small dome around himself, the group gathered behind him, and the chair.

The aurors stood shocked for a moment or two, and then went into a frenzy. The head of their section had just been knocked out by someone who could do powerful wandless magic and who just sealed himself in a light blue dome of protective magic.

"Call for more aurors, now!" James could faintly hear from inside the bubble, as if they were underwater. All sounds were fuzzy and vision was slightly blurred.

"What did you do?" asked Hermione in wonder.

"Yeah, this is... unusual," said Ron.

The aurors were firing curses and spells at the dome. The spells didn't even bounce off; everything was absorbed.

"Um, I don't know," said James. "I just wanted to protect myself."

A few brave aurors came up to the bubble and touched it. The light blue shield sunk slightly inwards when the aurors pushed on it with their hands, but as soon as they lifted their hands, the dome snapped back into place.

"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" asked Sarah suspiciously.

"I don't know what I mean when I say 'I don't know'!" shouted James, starting to get hysterical. After all, the aurors were right outside and his magic just did something useful for the first time in ten years. "I don't know how I do these things! I don't even have control over my ability!"

"Calm down, Harry, just calm down," said Ron, putting his hand on James' shoulder. "You have to calm down if you don't know how your magic will react."

Ron made sense, and James made an effort to relax. He really did not want his magic to make anything else happen.

James looked around him. He briefly thought about apparating, but then was against the idea, reasoning that where ever he apparated to, he would still stick out like a sore thumb on the detection charts.

"Alright, James," said Peter, walking up to James slowly. "I think you owe us an explanation, _now_. Why don't you start with this question: What the hell did you do to get these people so angry at you?"

James gulped. "Um, well, I--"

"And why are you a criminal?" Peter took a step towards James.

"But I--"

"And why are you running from your police?" Peter stepped closer.

"No, I'm--"

"And why did you lie about all of this to those you considered your best friends?"

Peter now had his hands gripping James' shirtfront, his face inches away from James' face. Peter was staring fiercely into James' eyes.

"Would you just let me explain?" asked James softly. "And Ginny, don't even think about casting that stunning spell."

Ginny guiltily put down her wand.

"Whoa," said George. "He's good."

Peter was not fazed. "Fine. Explain." He let go of James' shirt but made no move to back off.

"I'm- I'm not a criminal," said James. _Though it might be better if I were._

Jacob walked up to Peter. "I can verify that. He's not a criminal and he's not in trouble with the police."

"You'd have to be really dumb to ever think Harry was a criminal," said Ginny, glaring at Peter.

"Yeah," said Fred. "How well _do_ you know Harry anyway? I mean, have you ever spent more that two hours with the guy?"

"Of course I've spent time with James!" said Peter indignantly.

"Then you would know that Harry is the bravest, kindest, and most loyal person on the face of the planet," said Ron.

James turned red. "I'm none of those things, Ron. I'm a scared coward who can't even stay loyal to myself, never mind my friends."

Hermione came up and poked James in the chest. "Who sacrificed himself for his friends? Who killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Who devoted almost his entire life to saving the wizarding world?"

"Now, _that's_ a mood swing," said Fred. "One minute she hates him, the next minute she's trying to cheer him up. I just don't get it..."

"Wait... what?" said Peter. "What did James do?"

Hermione turned around and put her hands on her hips. "He saved the entire wizarding world from a ruthless dictator!"

"Hermione..." said James, embarrassed and annoyed.

"He's the reason that many of us are still alive!"

"Hermione--"

"He's a house-hold name!"

"Would you just stop--"

"We have a Harry Potter Day! That's how revered he is!"

"_Hermione_!"

"What?"

"Stop it!" said James, irritated. "And I'm pretty sure that not all that is true. I mean, there's not a Harry Potter _Day_. That would be... _weird_."

Fred shrugged. "Celebration of Peace... Harry Potter Day... same difference."

George grinned evilly. "But if it bothers you that much, we'll be sure to get the name changed. 'Harry Potter Day'... that might be a nice change from the old name. And who wouldn't want to miss seeing the Boy-Who-Lived bright red with embarrassment for 24 hours straight?"

"Hey, who wouldn't want to miss seeing the Boy-Who-Lived... period?" said Fred. "We could have Harry Potter Day be a day that Harry comes out of his little hiding place. It could be celebrated every ten years!"

"And just think of the marketing opportunity!" said George excitedly. "We could sell rope, blindfolds, and little model taxis, along with action figures! There could be one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Harry, and--"

"Will you two quit it?" said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "You're acting like two-year-olds."

The twins quieted down. Everyone in the dome was staring at them.

"Sorry," said Fred and George together.

Peter looked at James. "I'm so sorry... really I am..."

James held up his hand for Peter to stop and sighed. "It's okay. I probably deserved it. Besides, I'm trying to stay calm, so please just accept my forgiveness and stop talking to me."

In the silence that followed, James took out his blue bottle of pills. He swallowed a few without water. Then, realizing that he was not feeling any of the magic-lowering effects he was used to, he swallowed some more. When this did not provide the desired effect either, James sighed. _I'm doomed..._ He tucked the bottle back in his pocket and sat down in the chair, slouching.

The group stared in mild shock at James' actions.

"What?" said James. "It's not like they work anymore." And before anyone could ask what "they" were, James answered it for them. "They're just pills that make my magic stop working. That's how I could live as a non-magical person, and that's how I couldn't be detected, and that's how you couldn't see my scar."

There was a pause.

"Well, that sure explains a lot," said Hermione, blinking a few times in surprise. "Especially how your magic level was scanned to read 0, which is impossible."

"Which is how we found you," said Ron.

James closed his eyes. "So, the very pills I use to free myself from the wizarding world actually pulled me back into it. How ironic..." he said dryly.

"Harry," asked Hermione tentatively. "Can you tell us _why_ you left the wizarding world?"

James leaned forward and put his head into his hands.

Hermione continued. "I always thought it was because of me, but it can_not_ be just that. You are in such a state of denial... it's like nothing I've ever seen."

"And I would really like to know what happened," said Sarah. "I mean, it's like I don't even know you."

"Yeah," agreed Emma, "I don't know who you are, except that your name is _not_ Jamesie Potterson."

Peter nodded, but didn't speak.

"So," said Fred, "Since it looks like we're going to be stuck inside this blue bubble-thing for a while, why don't you tell us, Harry?"

"If you tell us what happened," said George. "I can write a book about it and become richer than Ginny."

Ginny turned red, but appeared to agree with her brother on the "tell your life-story" bit.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Harry," said Ron. "But it could pass the time faster. Of course, if you still want to run from your past, we can't _make_ you tell us what happened."

James sighed.

Outside, the aurors were still working at the dome, trying to make it go away. James knew they would not find a counter-spell quickly. He had essentially made up the spell for the dome. His knew his power was too strong to stay within the confines of written spells. He also knew that E levels before him were the people to create most of the spells and hexes in the world. Sure, a regular witch or wizard could create a spell, but it was difficult, and could only be a simple spell. The dome was complicated. Yep, it would take hours for the aurors to remove the dome, perhaps days. Time was not a problem.

But did he really want to confront his past? As Ron said, nobody could _make_ James talk about it. He could just stay in denial. But denial was getting to be hard work, and James _was_ rather tired of running from his past. Why not let his story be known? Why not let out all the horrors he kept hidden in his memory, beneath layers and layers of denial and lies? The wizarding world was going to find him one day. There was already going to be tons of press about this incident. And the pills didn't work. James no longer had a protection from his past, from the wizarding world, and from his power.

James looked to his friends, both groups. It wasn't fair to keep them in so much worry, in so much fear, and in so much secrecy. Hermione had gone nuts to find him. Peter had let his fear and suspicion take over. Ron seemed to be the only calm one among them, which certainly was a change since school. Hermione was supposed to be the calm one and Ron was supposed to have a short temper and unreasonable logic. Peter was supposed to be James' best friend, but feared James the most at this moment. Maybe James didn't know his friends as well as he thought he did, and maybe (he thought) it took some openness on his part to get openness on their part.

None of his problems was going to be solved by lying anymore. James had to come clean. No, _Harry_ had to come clean. There was no more James Potterson. There was only Harry, and his past.

"Fine," said Harry, summoning all the courage inside him. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you the whole story."

----------------

LOOK ON MY AUTHOR PAGE FOR THE EXCITING SEQUEL, "FACING THE PAST, FIXING THE PRESENT"!

This goes out to all of those who ever reviewed or read my story: You guys are the coolest, the best, the most wonderful readers out there! I love you all to pieces. Oh, and there _will_ be a sequel coming up (as if I didn't set it up for one…) about what actually happened to make Harry leave. Anyhoo, thanks for all of your lovely reviews and e-mails. You guys are my heroes.

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